


THE 


McGreg^ 



By MRS. ROSETTA B. HASTINGS. 
Superintendent Anif-N»rcotics. Kansas W. C, T. II. 


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COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 






COFFIN NAILS, 


THE STORY OF 

Jane McGregor 

BY 

MRS. ROSETTA BUTLER HASTINGS 


State Superintendent of Anti- Narcotics 

In The Kansas Woman s Christian Temperance Union 

and 


Author of “Jared Humphrey, ” “A Tavern Keeper’s Daugh- 
ter, ” “A Friend In Need ” and “Neighbors. ” 


THE DISPATCH PUBLISHING COMPANY 
CLAY CENTER, KANSAS 



VIBRARYof OeNGKESsi 

IwoCoDies riectiivtjc 

SEP 21. Jaob 

wvvy<.&iu uiUi 

0\-AS8 XXc. 

tT^ O ^ [ 

i COPY a. 


COPYRIGHT, 1908 

BY Chas. a. Southwick 


ABI, RIGHTS RESERVED 


Contents 


CHAPTER I 

The Cowboy Girl. 5 

CHAPTER 11. 

Walnut Hill Seminary 12 

CHAPTER III. 

The New Society 23 

CHAPTER IV. 

Something Did Happen 1. . . .1 30 

CHAPTER V. 

A COEEIN I 43 

CHAPTER VI. 

Another Coeein s. • 53 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Mystery Explained 62 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Love Under Dieeiculties ! 73 

CHAPTER IX. 

A Woman's Story : 79 

CHAPTER X. 

A Gruesome Intruder 92 

CHAPTER XI. 

Is 3 'his THE End? . . .» 99 

CHAPTER XII. 

Love Wears a New Disguise i 104 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Pride Goeth Beeore Destruction. . .' 115 


CHAPTER XIV, 

His Reward 124 

CHAPTER XV. 

The Cost oe Fame.. 134 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Stroke th.\t Lost 148 

CHAPTER XVH. 

Broken Heart-Strings 154 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

What They Think of Us 171 

CHAPTER XIX. 

An Inspiring Audience 183 

CHAPTER XX. 

After Many Days 195 

CHAPTER XXL 

In the Face of Danger 200 

CHAPTER XXII 

Bennie 208 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

The Voice of Science 215 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

A Momentous Question 232 

CHAPTER XXV. 

A Conscientious Druggist . . . .: 238 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

The Burden of Guilt 247 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Beneath the Evergreens 253 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The Last Nail ' 258 


CHAPTER I. 


The Cowboy Gire. 


O NE hot August afternoon, soon after the boom in 
the short-grass country, a horseman rode across the 
plains. His eyes ached with gazing on the wide 
stretch of parched grass, bounded only by the horizon. 

On account of the wholesale slaughter carried on by 
huiuers, the buffaloes were well nigh extinct. But it had 
been reported that a small herd had passed that way a 
few days before. He had hoped to catch sight of them 
ere he returned home. Now he saw a herd of grazing an- 
imals in the distance. Urging his tired horse to increased 
speed, he eagerly rode toward them. They were not buf- 
faloes, only cattle. But he rode on, for cattle denoted 
settlers, and he wanted a night’s lodging. The startled 
cows pricked up their ears, and sidled away, but the 
young cattle started off on the run, as he galloped up. 
A little girl sprang up from behind a bunch of weeds, 
with the words: “Dinna ye ken what you’re aboot?” 
And, without waiting to hear his apology, she ran to a 
pony which was picketed close by, unsnapped the lariat 
from the halter, sprang from the ground to the saddle, 
and galloped off after the cattle. The traveller waited, 
fearing to try to help her, lest he do more harm than 
good. 

She was a chubby girl of about twelve, with a freckled 
face, and frowzy red hair. In her haste she had dropped 
her sunbonnet, and a book she had been reading. The 


5 


coi^i^iN NAII.S : run STORY on jane: m"gre:gor 

stranger alighted, and picked them up, thinking the cattle 
might run over them. He had expected to find a dime 
novel, but to his surprise, he saw that it was a work on 
geology. 

The young herder soon rounded up her calves, and 
rode up to the stranger with a polite “Good evening. You 
frighted me so I forgot my manners.’' 

He apologized for his carelessness, and handed her 
the things he had picked up. 

“Thank you. I was scairt to forgetting them. I 
mostly put the book in here,” she said as she slipped it 
into a pocket on the side of her saddle. 

He learned from her that her people lived a few miles 
away, and that they often kept travellers. 

“The night is soon here,’’ she said, “when I start the 
cattle, you can coom with us.” 

Jumping down, she picked up a small mallet, knocked 
the picket loose, coiled the rope, and hung it on her sad- 
dle, and put the mallet in her saddle pocket. Remounting, 
she soon had the cattle in the home path. While waiting 
for her to do so, the stranger lit a cigar, and was loth to 
throw it away when she rode up. He thought she was 
only a child, that her father probably smoked, and that 
she would take it as a matter of course. But he had no 
sooner ridden near her than she exelaimed : “It’s nae 
clean to smoke. Auld Indians smoke.” 

“Are there any Indians here?” he asked, thinking 
to divert her attention. 

“They’re gane noo,” she answered, “but father took 
me to their tepee lang time ago. The squaws braided the 
gay mats, but the auld Indians joost lay aboot and 
smoked. You’re too bonnie a gentleman to smoke like 
a dirty auld Indian.” With a sudden flirt of her whip 
she knocked the cigar from his mouth. But she laughed 
with such childish merriment that he could not get angry. 

6 


the: cowboy girl. 


“Do you like to read?’' he asked. 

“To be sure. It’s lonely oot here, and father says all 
school is nae good for bairnies.” 

“Do' you go to school?” 

“Not noo, the settlers have mostly gane away. But 
I study three lessons the day oot here, and then I can 
read.” 

“Do you like to read geology?” 

“To be sure. I like to read about the queer stones, 
and the uncanny creatures that lived long ago.” 

“Do you ever read stories?” 

“To be sure. Pilgrim’s Progress, and Shakespeare, 
and Old Mortality.” 

“Which one of Shakespeare’s stories do you like 
best?” 

“Midsummer Night’s Dream, the fairies are so quaint 
Father likes Macbeth and Hamlet, but they’re too grue- 
some. It’s fearsome reading. I like Rob Roy best of 
all the stories. Father says they’re oor ain folk. He 
says we cam’ doon from the auld clan McGregor.” 

“Is your name McGregor?” 

“To be sure, Jane McGregor.” Then she entertained 
him by telling him about the prairie dogs. After awhile 
they came to the top of a slight rise in the undulating 
plain, and a narrow valley lay below them, following 
the sinuating course of a dry ravine. She explained that 
this was their home, though the traveler looked in vain 
for a house. But a windmill, a corral and a few sheds 
evidenced a human habitation, and the sight of a patch 
of greenness seemed refreshing. 

A short stout man, with red whiskers, came out and 
greeted them, and Jane explained that the gentleman 
wanted to stay all night. 

“I am benighted on the prairie, and crave your hos- 
pitality,” said the stranger. 


COI^I^IN NAIIvSiTHE: story or JANR M^GRRGOR 1 

“You’re welcome the night. Nae mon can say that 
Sandy McGregor turned any mon frae his dour,” replied 
his host, extending his hand, and speaking with a Scotch 
accent. 

“I am glad to meet you, Mr. McGregor. My name 
is Donald Cameron,” said the traveler, shaking the prof 
fered hand, and alighting from his horse. “I shall be 
very thankful for the shelter, if it is not troubling you 
too much.” 

“Nae, nae; dinna be thanking me for the tribble; it’s 
nae mair than right. The Camerons are from auld Scot- 
land too. I mind me o’ the Camerons o’ Glasgow.” 

“Yes, my grandfather was a Scotchman.” ' * 

Ha’e ye ganged far the day?” 

“About thirty miles, I think.” 

“Nae doot the beastie’s near dead wi’ tire. A drink 
o’ water, an’ a bit o’ aits will hearten her oop. Happit 
you’re seekin’ a hanie amang us, as oor neebur?” 

“No, I am not a homeseeker. A party of college boys 
have been hunting in the Rocky Mountains. We stopped 
off the train up north, and secured horses to hunt 
buffaloes, but we have not seen any. We heard there 
were some to the south, and the other boys are recon- 
noitering, I am interested in geology, and attempted 
to find some strange fossils that I heard were in the 
river bluff, but have lost my way.” 

“I ken the quarry you’re seekin’, it’s a far step doon 
the glen. There’s rare fossils doon there. I cam’ on a 
footprint o’ a bird doon there, as lang as a mon’s foot.” 

“That’s a rare specimen; I must see it.” 

“We’ll gae doon the mornin’. There’s a quarry on 
my ain place, well worth the saein’. There’s muckle 
Imildin’ stane that you can saw wi’ a saw, when you first 
diggit it oop, and then it hardens to rock. An’ then I’ve 
anither quarry, an’ T I’m not dotty, it’s gypsum. I want 

8 


THK COWBOY GiRIv 


you to sae it.” 

. “Certainly, I shall be glad to see them. You seem 
interested in geology.” 

“To be sure. 1 hae read muckle o’ Hugh Miller’s 
waurks.” 

The horse was taken to a hay-covered shed, against 
the side of the bluff. 

“You have a comfortable shelter for your scock. ’ 

“It’s nae mair than right to mak’ them vvaim. I’ve 
enoo’ of caves an’ sheds for ilka beastie on the claim. 
It’s shamefu’ boo some folk neglecit the poor beasties 
in winter.” 

The men were conversing so busily that thc}^ were at 
the house door before 'the stranger observed it. It was 
the rough stone front of a dugout in the si'le of the bluff, 
and the wdndows w'ere so sheltered with vines, that at a 
distance it appeared like a ledge of rocks. Mr! Mc- 
Gregor introduced his wife, saying, “She’s nae Scotch. 
I marriet her in this coontry. Noo, mon, sit doon, an’ 
bide a wee, while the bairnies an’ I milk the coos.” 

The stranger noticed that the dirt floor was really 
swept, while the walls were nearly as smooth as plastered 
walls. In the end of the room where he sat, w^ere a 
lounge, and some shelves, well filled with books and 
papers. The hostess was moving around a stove the 
other end, preparing supper. Farther back, smaller 
rooms were curtained off, and from behind the curtains 
a couple of chubby little faces peeped shyly out. 

When the chores were done, and they w^ere seated at 
the supper table, Mr. Cameron observed, “I have heard 
of dugouts, but I had no idea they were so comfortable.” 

“There’s many a dirt dugout that’s dire musty,” re- 
plied his host. “But ther’s muckle chalk in some o’ these 
bluffs, an I happit on one o’ them.” 

“Dug out of chalk, is it?” . 


9 


COI^I^IN NAII.S : story OT JANE: m'GRE:GOR 

‘^To be sure. Chalky clay. We lived in a tent till 
I planted a crop, an’ when the w^aurk lagged, or the 
weather was w^et, I diggit a bit noo an’ then, an’ afore- 
winter coom on, we had a waurm house. Afore mony 
years, when I can skimp the time to quarry out the stone, 
we’ll be puttin’ oop a fine stane hoose.” 

“I saw sod houses on the prairie today, but they all 
seemed uninhabited. Have you no neighbors?” asked 
the visitor, turning to his hostess. 

“We had quite a neighborhood at one time,” she re- 
plied, “but they all starved out the dry years, and went 
back east, except one family, several miles aw^ay.” 

“How are you able to stay, when others starve out?” 

“No' mon need starve,” replied the husband, “if he 
has a bit o’ gumption, and w^aurks and scrimps. When 
I cam’ west to look aboot, the homesteads wxre all taken 
oop to the frontier. Some tell me there was nae rain, 
and naught would grow but the short-grass. But I be- 
thought me if the buffaloes can find browsin’, why canna 
the coos? An’ if there’s nae rain, what w^ashed these 
ditches oot? An’ when I foond this chalk bluff, an’ the 
two quarries, I said to mesel’, ‘Sandy McGregor, you’re 
a canny mon if you poond your stakes doon in this bit 
o’ glen.’ I bought coos wd’ what money we had scrapit 
togither, an’ I yoked them oop to l)reak the sod. The 
neebors scoffit my coo team, but they waur steady in the 
yoke, and my wife made cheese from their milk the 
whiles. The railroad town was a far step away, but I 
hauled cheese the one way, and coal the ither. We had 
muckle rain, and muckle corn that year, an’ the neeburs 
burned it, they waur too dawdling to haul coal. I diggit 
an’ scrapit, frae time to time, at a dam to save the spring 
freshets, an’ when the drooth cam’ the next soommer, 
there was water for the coos, an’ the bit garden. The 
neebors had scoffit me for sowin’ so mooch wheat an* 


THE COWBOY GiRt. 


barley, for they said the wheat canna’ do weel on the sod, 
an' the barley was not mooch good. They could think 
of naught but corn, corn. But the wheat an’ the barley 
crops waur fair big, while the dry winds seared the 
corn afore it tasselled.” 

The next morning, after visiting the quarries, the 
two men were talking geology as they saddled their 
horses for their visit to the bluff containing the fossils. 
“Jane,” said her father, “fetch oot your kist of stanes, 
an’ let the mon see them afore he gangs away.” 

She brought the box out in the yard, and soon be- 
came as much interested as her father, in shoe ing the 
£|:erimens. 

“See this queer striped stone I found on the prairie,” 
she said. 

“Oh, that it a very pretty agate,” replied Mr. Cam- 
eron. He took off his cameo scarf pin, saying: “I had 
this cut from an agate I found last summer.” It was a 
delicately carved brown deer on a white ground. 

She took it with an exclamation of delight. He 
liad noticed her eyeing it curiously that morning, and, 
feeling under obligations for the hospitality shown him, 
he said : “I will trade it to you for this stone, and have 
this cut into another pin like that.” 

“Thank you,” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling, and 
she ran in to show it to her mother, as the men rode away. 


II 


CHAPTER li. 


Wai^nut HilIv Seminary. 

O NE bright September morning, four years.later, there 
was unusual bustle in the little Illinois town of 
Eudora. Up the sloping streets from the depot 
hurried dozens of young people. Draymen were busy 
hauling trunks, atid here and there a wagonhurried by, 
containing a fanner, a trunk and a boy or girl. 

The large building standing in a grove of tall walnut 
trees was the pride of the town — Walnut Hill Seminary. 

On Walnut Street, about three blocks from the Sem- 
inar^% a country wagon unloaded a trunk, a woman, and 
a girl. A short round faced woman came to the door, 
exclaiming: ‘Xa, Aunt Hannah MeCregor! Pm awful 
glad to see you. And is this the little Jane, the niece you 
were telling about? Come right in, and set down. But 
maybe Jane had better run right on to school. Mary 
Gainer stopped in a spell, and I told her she’d better 
wait for you, see'in' as you was strange, but she ’lowed 
she couldn't wait, ’cause they was awful particular about 
bein’ late. But you run right on, ’cause you can’t miss 
the seminary, it’s right up there. You’ll find Mary Gar- 
ner, the gill what, rooms here, ’cause she's the biggest 
girl there, an’ mighty friendly.’’ 

A few minutes later Henry Carson and Ned Grimes 
were leaning against one of the walnut trees on the 
camnus, watching the students come in. As the peals 
of the first bell rang out, a girl in a blue calico dress and 
blue sunbonnet, came up the walk, with a brisk step. 


12 


WALNUT HILL SEMINARY 


Her eyes were fixed curiously on the swinging bell in the 
tower overhead. 

“There’s a green freshie for you, Til bet,” said Ned. 

“Blue dress. Are you color-blind, my boy?” re- 
marked Henry. 

“She looks like a dumpling.” 

“Just look at her cheeks, like two red apples.” 

“Call her apple-dumpling, then,” retorted Ned, who 
usually found a nickname for everybody. So intently 
was she admiring the stately building, and listening to 
the great hell, that she did not observe the young men. 

Knocking at the big door, she waited, but no one 
came. Several boys passed her and went in, and she fol- 
lowed. She found herself in a large corridor, with doors 
and stairways on every side. Boys and girls were pass- 
ing in and out of the various doors, and speaking to each 
other, lint no one noticed Jane. 

“Which door shall I go in?” she asked of a girl who 
passed her. 

“That depends on- where you want to go,” answered 
the girl, with a wink at her companion. Jane was hot 
with her rapid walk, and, taking off her sunbonnet, stood, 
fanning herself with it. Just then she heard a remark 
not intended for her ears, but the voice was too heavy 
a bass to speak inaudibly. 

“That carrot head certainly grew in a country gar- 
den.” Turning quickly, she saw the speaker, a tall 
haughty young man, who would have been handsome, 
but for his snub nose and heavy lips; and retorted: 
“Carrot heads and turniqi noses graw in one garden.” 

A merry laugh from the girls around him brought 
the color to the young man’s face. 

“Got ahead of you that time, Cyrus,” said Mattie 
Gaston. 

Just then a large girl, with a pleasant face, came up 

13 


COFP'IN NAIIvS : the: story or jane: m'grkgor 

and shook hands, saying, “Are you Aunt Hannah Mc- 
Gregor’s niece that Mrs. Mallows was looking for ?” 

“To be sure. I am Jane McGregor, and no doot you 
are Mary Garner; Mrs. Mallows told me aboot you.” 
Mary took her to the cloak room, and to the assembly 
roorn, as it was time for chapel, telling her that she would 
take her to the office afterwards, where she could see 
about her studies. 

“I am fearful of the examinations; are they quite 
hard?” 

“Well, not very hard.” 

“I learned my lessons weel at school, and when father 
speired me aboot them, afore I coom, he said I knowed 
them weel, but these college folk are so mooch wiser.” 

On the way to the assembly room Mary introduced 
her to other girls, explaining that they would also board 
at Mrs. Mallow's. One of them was Lucy Lambert, a 
quiet womanly girl, with dark eyes and hair, the other 
was Sallie Bane, a mischievous looking little girl of thir- 
teen. A fair slender girl with yellow curls, delicate feat- 
ures, and smiles that rippled all over her face, came 
springing down the steps to meet them, exclaiming, “Oh, 
Mary Garner, I’m delighted to see you,” and she threw 
her arms about Mary’s neck and kissed her. “I’ve just 
been crazy to see you. I’ve hunted up stairs and down.” 

“Well, now, I have been here half an hour, and I 
surely have not been hiding, for I am real glad to see you, 
Nellie.” Turning to her friends, Mary introduced her 
as Miss Warren. 

As they waited in the assembly room, the faculty 
came in, and Jane whispered : “No doot that is the 
president. He looks like a grand auld prophet.” 

“Yes,” answered Mary, “the one with the white 
beard is Prof. Porter.” 

“But who are the folks ahint him?” 


14 


walnut hill seminary 


“The other teachers.” 

“You dinna say it. They look just like commoil 
folk.” 

Mary remembered when she, too, had supposed that 
college teachers were so noble looking that they could 
be easily distinguished. 

Jane passed the extrance examination and was placed 
in classes, and went with the other girls to Mrs. Mallow’s 
for dinner. 

Out ran a rougish, dimpled little boy *-o meet them, 
saying: “See my new pants. 1 thinks it was 'ou. Muv- 
ver said Mary was cornin’. I knows ’ou jus’ as easy way 
down 'e street.” 

“Why, now, Bennie Mallows! I hardly knew you,” 
exclaimed Mary picking him up. “I see your pants, 
!)ut where’s your curls?” 

“Muvver cut ’em off an’ f rowed ’ em away in a box. 
She frowed my dresses away in a box, too. I’s most a 
man. Mans don’t wear dresses an' curls.” 

“Don’t you know me, too?” asked Sallie, as Mary 
set him down on the porch. 

“I knows ’ou little bit, course I does,” looking shyly 
at her, and backing off. 

“Don’t you remember Sallie? She used to come to 
see ns last wdnter, and took you buggy riding.” 

“Where's your buggy?” 

“I left it at home. I’m coming to live at your house.” 

“’Ou comes too soon enough, dinner ain’t ready yet. 
I go tell muvver to make dinner quick enough.” 

“Oh, come upstairs with us,” urged Sallie. 

“There, now, Sallie, let him go to his mother,” said 
Mary, who, with Jane and Miss Lambert, was already 
at the top of the stairs. “He bothered us so last winter I 
had to make a rule that he must not come into our rooms. 
Come up and put your things away, and then you can 


15 


COFFIN NAIFS : THF STORY OF JANF m'GRFGOR 

go down and play with him. You see,” she explained 
to the other girls, “Sallie is my cousin. She really would 
have done better in the district school this year, but her 
mother wanted her here with me, and this is my last 
year.” 

“Wdiy, Janie, you are not much taller than I am,” 
said Sallie, as she came up. 

“Dinna call me Janie, my name is Jane.” 

'‘Well, Jane, then, how old are you?” 

“Sixteen years auld, the winter.” 

“Aint you Irish? You talk cpieer.” 

“No, I am Scotch. But mother is not Scotch. When 
I went to school the winter I talked like other girls, but 
mother said 1 had been too mooch afield with father the 
summer. She said I must be careful of my words or the 
gii Is. would laugh. She trained me, and trained me 
.alxjot them, but I forget, I moost be careful.” 

When Mrs. Mallows called them to dinner, she in- 
troduced Mr. Mallows and Mr. Brown to the three girls, 
saying, “Mary don't need any introducing.” 

“I think we are slightly acquainted,” said Mr. 
Brown. “I thought we were to have Josiah with us 
again,” he continued, after they were seated. 

“Yes, he did promise to come,” answered Mrs. Mal- 
lows, “but he wrote the other day that he couldn’t come 
till after corn-husking. He’s such a moral young man, 
and talks mighty nice about folks being good, and doing 
their duty. I'd like to have him back.” 

“I wish he would practice what he preaches,” replied 
Mr. Brown. “I remember he used to copy my arithmetic 
examples ; and when the teacher said it was a bad sign to 
see our examples worked just alike, mistakes and all, 
what an injured look he put on, and whined that he 
thought it unjust to suspect such a moral young man.” 

“And you never said a word,” exclaimed Mary. 

i6 


WAI.NUT HIIvIv ^EiMINARV 

“What could I do, but wait for time to show which 
of us could work our own examples?” 

“Have some of this slaw, Mr. Brown,” said Mrs. 
Mallows, coming back from the kitchen, “it’s fixed just 
the way you like it. You must all help yourselves, just 
like you was to home. Mr. Brown and Mary, they’ve 
boarded here so long, they’re just like home folks.” 

“Home folks, indeed! exclaimed Mr. Brown. “It’s 
Mr. Brown all the time. You used to call me Arthur.” 

“I aint forgot my part of the bargain no more’n you 
have. It’s ‘Mrs. Mallows, Mrs. Mallows,’ you aint said 
mother today. You see I make my boarders call me 
mother, and I call them by their first names. You aint 
told us your first name yet,” turning to Miss Lambert. 

“Lucy:” 

“You do say! It’s a mighty pretty name. Don’t 
any of you folks quit eatin’ till I bring you some peach 
cobbler.” 

“Mary, who was that stuck-up looking young man 
who made fun of Jane this morning?” asks Sallie. 

“That was Cyrus Linville.” 

“Stuck-up lookin’? said Mrs. Mallows. “I should 
say he was. He thinks ’cause his pa’s a banker here that 
he owns the whole creation.” 

“They say,” remarked Arthur, “ that Cyrus Linville 
and Henry Carson will both study law after they finish 
here.” 

“They ought to make sharpe ones,”' said Mrs. Mal- 
lows ; “they do say those are the two sharpest boys ever 
come to this school. “Now make out your dinners. 
Don’t stop hungry.” 

“Who’s Henry Carson?” asked Sallie, as they started 
back to school after dinner. 

“He is a young man from Peoria,” answered Mary. 

“I see Nellie Warren is back again,” said Arthur. 


17 


COI^HN NAII.S : THE) STORY 01^ JANE MCGREGOR 

“Aint she a sweet girl?” put in Sallie. > 

'‘Henry seems to think so/’ replied Arthur. 

"You think Flossie has cause for jealousy, do you?” 
asked Mary. 

"Who’s Flossy?” put in Sallie again. 

"She’s a girl from Peoria, but you’re too inquisi- 
tive.” 

That evening Mrs. Mallows asked "Did you girls 
get acquainted much today?” 

"We met several, but I fear I will have the strange 
names and faces mixed by tomorrow,” replied Lucy. 

"You do say! But you can soon learn the folks that 
live right along this street. Over on the next corner 
there’s Mrs. Clark. She’s a poor widow, with one girl, 
Elsie. She keeps boarders, and works mighty hard to 
edicate Elsie, and she’s a right nice girl too. Nellie 
Warren is goin’ to board there, I reckon, but none of the 
other girls she had last year has come back to school.” 

"I understand that school-ma’am, Miss Loraine, is 
to board there,” said Arthur. 

"Lucy, they’re goin’ to put you two school-ma’amsi 
a year ahead of the rest of us new ones ; that aint fair,” 
put in Sallie. 

"As I was say in’,” Mrs. Mallows continued, "on the 
next block there’s another widow, Mrs. Heath, with one 
girl, Minnie, that she come here to edicate too, only she 
don’t keep no boarders, ’cause she’s a dressmaker. But 
I have my doubts whether she’ll stand an edication, 
’cause she’s delicate, like, an’ can’t stand much. But 
Minnie’s awful friendly. Then across the street from 
there are Martin’s folks. They have plenty of boarders, 
mostly young men. Wonder who’s there this year?” 

"Henry Carson, and George Winthrop, and some 
Freshmen. And what do you think! Charlie’s started 
to the Seminary.” 


i8 


WAI.NUT Hllylv SE:mINARY 

“Charley Martin ! Do tell ! He aint bigger’n a chip- 
munk, but then I know he’s older’ n he looks, and mighty 
bright. I’m afeard, though, he’ll never learn to talk 
plain.” 

“I didn’t like that black-eyed girl, Irene Earl. She 
just turned up her nose at Jane and me,” put in Sallie, 
again, before Mrs. Mallows had finished. And Mary 
shook her head at her for her ill-manners. 

“La!” exclaimed Mrs. Mallows, “she’s that proud, 
’cause she’s a merchant’s gal, she can’t find anybody 
good enough to speak to.” 

“The fellow that made fun of Jane was talking to 
her about it,” Sallie continued. 

“Yes, I’ll be bound,” replied Mrs. Mallows. “They’re 
both of a piece, and they’re always together. Irene 
thinks everything Cyrus says is law and gospel.” 

In a Seminary, where there are only one or two 
hundred students, they soon become acquainted, and 
there is much fun and zest in school life. 

“Our friends, who were known as the Mallows’ 
crowd, entered heartily into both work and fun. Sallie 
was quite a pet, despite her pertness. She liked fun so 
well, however, that it took all of Mary’s watchfulness^ 
to keep her up with her classes. Lucy was an earnest 
student, but, being shy and reticent was slow in making 
friends. Yet there was a kindly refinement about her 
that attracted the teachers and older students. Jane was 
not so ignorant, when it came to books, as they had sup- 
posed. She was mo great talker, but she was an inde- 
pendent little body, and did not care who was hit by her 
words. ■ She made some enemies, but more friends. 

One, who had disliked Jane from the first, was Irene 
Earl, who had disdainfully remarked to her dressy chum, 
Flossy Larkin, the first day of school: “The idea of 


19 


CO^^N NAII.S : THE STORY OE JANE MCGREGOR 

wearing a blue calico dress, and a sunbonnet to a Sem- 
inary !” 

The fact was. she resented the curt rebuff that Jane 
gave Cyrus Tinville that first morning. She had noticed 
Jane’s cameo pin, with its daintily carved deer, and one 
evening, when the girls had gathered in the cloak room, 
she thought to have some fun at Jane’s expense. 

“What a beautiful pin,” she said to her, with a wink 
at Flossy. “Is it a diamond or a pearl?” 

“It is a cameo, cut from an agate,” Jane answered, 
innocently. The girls laughed, ,and Jane glancing quick- 
ly around, caught the situation. 

“But,” continued Irene, “where did you find such a 
valuable jewel?” 

“I dinna’ find it, it was a giftie.” 

“Oh. did your mother give it to you? One of the 
jewels that graced her crown, wasn’t it?” 

“No, it was na’ mother. It was a fine knight gie’ 
it to me. Pity your mother did na’ gie you the grace o’ 
kindness.” 

Some of our friends belonged to the Athenians, the 
more exclusive of the two school societies, and proposed 
to invite Jane to join it. 

“She’s too green,” said Irene; “they say she was 
raised in a dugout.” 

“The idea of an Athenian being raised in a dugout,” 
exclaimed dignified Laura Loraine. 

“But she’s bright, anyway,” answered Nellie. And 
she was taken into the society. 

“You girls had a cold walk, didn’t you?” asked Miss 
Miller, one of the teachers, one cold snowy morning, as 
Jane and Sallie came in, panting. 

“Wind nor cold canna’ shove me ahint,” answered 
Jane. 

“My nose and ears are most froze,” pouted Sallie. 


20 


WAIvNUT HII.I. seminary 

'‘Why didn’t you wrap up, child ?” asked Miss Miller. 

“I wouldn’t wait for Mary to wrap me. We ran off,” 
and they both burst out laughing. Miss Miller smiled, 
for she was quite, indulgent with the girls. If there was 
any mischief brewing, she seemed to know it, and kept 
a watchful silence, until some of them confided it to her. 

“Who’s that burly fellow poking along with Arthur?’' 
asked Irene. 

“That’s -Falstaff,” answered Jane. 

“Who, did you say?” 

“Mr. Jenkins, our new boarder,’’ put in Sallie. 

“What! Josiah Jenkins back again? Yes, that’s 
him, sure enough. The greenest old granny.” 

“See,” said Sallie, “he’s breaking the wind off the 
girls. That’s why we ran off.” 

“Doing what?” 

“Acting as a windbreak for Lucy and Mary,” an- 
swered Jane. “He told us at breakfast it was too severe 
for ladies to go out this extravagant weather,” huimick- 
ing his drawling tone, “and he was always ready to sac- 
rifice his comfort 'for the protection of the ladies, and 
we must all walk in the rearward of him and Arthur, 
and they would be a protectorate windbreakage for us. 
But who wants to dawdle after that lubberly jput ?” 

“He talks awful funny,” said Sallie, “but Mrs. Mai-. ^ 
lows won’t let us laugh at him; she says he’s a good 
young man.” 

• “So good he’s good for naught,” snapped Jane. “It 
passes me how a body with so little in him has the face 
to open his mouth.” 

“But we ought not to ridicifie those who are so un- 
fortunate as to lack sense,” said Miss Miller, laying her 
hand gently on Jane’s head. 

The door was opened suddenly, and a boy cried: 
“Miss Miller, come quick! Professor Porter’s dying!” 


21 


COFFIN NAILS : THF STORY OF JANF m'GRFGOR 

“Oh !“ screamed Minnie, and Miss Miller said, as she 
hurried out, “Don’t let Minnie faint.” Nellie threw her 
arms around her, while Jane rubbed her face with a 
snowball she had been eating. 

The boys had gathered in Prof. Porter’s office that 
morning discussing the weather. He had come early, 
and was stting near the big, old fashioned stove. Sud- 
denly he gasped, and his head fell back. The boys 
sprang to his side. 

“Henry, call Professor Felton,” said Philip Dayton, 
as he supported the dying man. “Arthur, run for Dr. 
Hawley. George, bring some snow.” All efforts to re- 
susitate him were in vain, and when the doctor came, he 
pronounced him dead. 

The last sad rites were over, and the students had 
gathered in the assembly room, with a feeling of awe, 
and a hush of manner. Prof. Felton had spoken to 
them feelingly of the death of their old teacher. Paus- 
ing a moment, he said, solemnly : “There is one thing 
more I think ought to be said, yet I hesitate, for it seems 
like reproaching the dead. But the dead are beyond the 
reach of our praise or reproach. The living are here, 
and need all the help we can give them. The physicians 
tell us that Prof. Porter died of heart trouble, brought 
on by his habit of chewing tobacco. Our friend and 
teacher had formed the habit while young, and regretted 
it much. He had made an effort to quit using it, but 
without success. I would not intrude this subject at this 
solemn hour, but that I hope these words may prove a 
timely warning to our young men. Tobacco is always 
injurious, and more deaths are caused by it than physi- 
cians usually make known. 

“We will carry on the school as best we can, until 
the Christmas vacation, when the Board will employ a 
new President.” 


22 


CHAPTER III. 


That Ne:w Society. 

A S the girls gathered in the cloakroom that noon, Min- 
nie said : ‘T dread to pass the office door. I seem 
to see Professor Porter lying there. Wasn’t it 
awful to die so suddenly?” 

‘T did not know he used tobacco,” said Mary. 

“Nor I, either,” said Elsie. “Poor man, the doctor 
ought to have told him it would hurt him.” 

“Nae doot he knew himself it was poison,” spoke up 
Jane. “It’s like Shakespeare said: ‘O God, that men 
should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their 
brains.’ ” 

“I don’t like to smell the nasty stuff, but I didn’t 
know tobacco was so awful bad,” said Nellie. 

“Oh, cigars are not so bad,” remarked Irene, “as 
nasty tobacco chewing, or stinking old pipes. I rather 
like the smell of a good cigar.” 

“Yes, if men must use tobacco, cigars are least offen- 
sive,” was Laura Lorain’s comment. 

“I have heard of many being injured by tobacco, and 
I think it wrong to use it in any form,” answered Lucy. 

As the boys passed out of the door, Josiah Jenkins 
said, in his drawling way: “I think you fellows what 
smoke got hit. Prof. Felton give you what you de- 
serve. I always knowed tobacco was sickening, and 
made folks die sudden like. I hold myself above any 
such low-down habit.” 

“Oh, you bet! Your highness feels a mile above it. 


23 


COFI^IN NAIFS : the: STORY OF JANF MCGREGOR 

You’re just sailing around in a balloon about our heads,” 
replied Joe Blazer. . 

“Josiah feels awful high above us common folks. 
Bet’s give him a little more smoke, to send his balloon 
hingher,” said Ned Grimes — who was beginning to think 
himself a young man — as he pulled out a cigar. 

“Put that back, my boy, till we get off the campus,” 
said Philip Grey, in the quiet way that always com- 
.manded the respect of his schoolmates. 

“I expect to be persecuted for my righteousness. All 
great men have been persecuted,” whined Josiah. 

“Oh, you poor martyr, we’ll not burn you at the 
stake, we're not heathens!” exclaimed Henry Carson, 
contemptuously. 

“I don’t want to boast about myself,” said Arthur, 
soberly, “but I never learned the habit, and I am glad 
of it.” 

“I expect we would all be better off without tobacco,” 
said Philip Dayton. “I know it does me no good, even 
if it does no harm. Maybe we would better all quit.” 

“I could quit any day, if I wanted to,” replied Henry 
Carson. “But maybe the doctors don’t know what did 
ail Prof. Porter, anyway.’-’ 

“Doctors never agree, anyhow,” exclaimed Cyrus. 
“One says pizen,.and another says honey.” 

“I ve known lots of old men who used tobacco,” con- 
tinued Henry, “and they looked stout as mules.” 

“You bet.” said Joe Blazer. “There’s an old fellow 
I know, as grey as a rat, and so old his face looks like 
tanned leather.” 

“Maybe he wouldn’t look so old if tobacco hadn’t 
tanned him. I know two brothers, the younger one uses 
tobacco and the older don't, and the younger one looks 
.ten years the older,” said Arthur. 


24 


that n£:w Society. 

“Who cares the doctors say?” exclaimed Joe 

blazer. “Let s be joiiy while we re young.” 

‘ ii 1 thought it hurt me to use tobacco,” said George 
Xviiithiop, “1 would just quit, for it’s a costly habit. 
Bui 1 never could see that smoking a little did , much 
haim. ■ 

“Wheie’s Bennie?” asked Sallie, as they came in 
from school that noon. 

“Oh, he’s down to the store with his pap. The poor 
little fellow was that tired staying indoors all this bad 
weather. Mr. Mallow's said he might have argood run 
o’ trade today, seein’ it’s moderatin’, and w'e needn’t 
w^ait dinner on him.” 

“Mrs. Mallow^s, it was chewing tobacco killecl Prof. 
Porter,” Sallie said, as soon as she could get in a w^ord. 

“Laws a massy, child! You don’t say so!” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Mallow'S from the kitchen. “Now, wjien 
I w’as a girl I heard my mother’s cousin — her name w^as 
Polly Smith, and she come to visit us ten years ago, or 
vras it only nine?) — That’s right, sit right dowm and go 
to eatin,” — seeing her boarders at the table. “Pm a 
cornin’,” and she appeared with a steaming dish in each 
hand. 

“What w'as that story Sallie was a telliiiLabout to- 
bacco killin’ Prof. Porter?” she asked, as soon as she. 
succeeded in turning her conversation away Jfrom ex- 
cuses about her dinner. 

“I am sorrowTul to relate that our respectful presi- 
dent got his call to everlastin’ hal)itation:: through the 
abominatin’ practice of chawdn’ terbaccer,” replied Jo- 
siah in his most ^sanctimonious tone. ■ 

“You don’t say so!” 

“Prof. Felton gave us a grandiloquent speech,” he 
continued. “He made them fellows squirm, that’s 
guilty of smokin’ an’ chawin’. They looked like sheep- 


25 


COFI^IN NAILS : The story or jane MCGREGOR 

killin’ dogs. But we fellows what’s kep’ clear of such 
pollutin’ practices jest held up our heads like turkey 
gobblers.” 

“You don’t say so! Take hold now, and help your- 
selves.” 

“I did not feel proud,” said Arthur. “Tobacco never 
was any temptation to me. But my conscience hurt me 
because I have not tried to keep other boys from using it.'" 

“Example is better than precept,” answered Mary. 

“I hope,” said Lucy, “this warning will prevent the 
other boys beginning, but I doubt whether it will b-'cak 
those who have formed the habit.” 

“The law ought to forbid tobacco using, as it does 
murder,” spoke up Jane, vehemently. 

“You don’t say so! They wouldn’t mind no such 
laws. Men will have their terbaccer. ]\Ir. Mallows says 
he niakes more money sellin’ terbaccer than anythin’ else. 
A man come in the store to buy some flour an’ sugar, 
an’ tobaccer, an’ some calico for his wife a dress, an’ 
come to find out he didn’t have money enough, and he 
jest give back the sugar an’ calico, but you’re mighty 
right he kept the terbaccer.” 

“I wish we could do something to check this habit.” 
continued Lucy. “Where I live but few young men use 
tobacco, and those that do, are hardly thought respect- 
able enough for good society.” 

“That must be an exceptional neighl>orhood,” Arthur 
replied. “But girls might do much to stop bad habits if 
they would shut tipplers and smokers out of society.” 

“In my opinion, . ladies ought to mitten every con- 
temptable puppy that smokes them cigars,” added Josiah. 

“Oh. they’d all die old maids,” put in Mrs. Mallows. 

“Old maids, or no old maids ! Who wants to marry 
a smoke-house?” exclaimed Jane, contemptuously. 

Just then Mr. Mallows and Bennie came in, and 


26 


THAT NEW SOCIETY 

Sallie jumped up and pulled off Bennie’s coat and mit- 
tens, and put him in his high chair. 

“My footses is mos’ freezed/’ said Bennie. “I jus’ 
knowed dinner was mos’ ready, but pappy wouldn’t 
come too soon enough.” 

“Do you want Sallie to hold you by the fire and 
warm your feet?” 

“No, Bennie wants pertaters an’ dumplin’ an’ meat. 
Aleat’s better’ll candy. ’Ou may have two pieces o’ 
candy,” he said, pulling some out of his pocket. “Pap- 
py’s got big heaps o’ candy in the store. Don’t open 
’e door, Arfur, ’e freezes might come in an’ get Bennie’s 
footsies. Sallie, does chickies’ footsies get cold?” he 
asked, presently, when he had swallowed a few mouth- 
fuls. 

“Oh, yes, sometimes. Look out and see that poor 
chicken standing on one foot.” 

“Poor chickie, did you been cold? What’s he done 
wiv one footsie? Did it freezed off?” 

“Noj he is holding it up to keep it warm.” 

“Have ’e put it in his pocket to hide it so ’e freezes 
can’t get it?” But Sallie did not hear, she had left 
the room. 

That same evening the girls were studying in their 
room, when Nellie, Elsie and Minnie came up for a 
little visit. After a bit of lively chat, Elsie said: “We’ve 
been trying to think of some way to get the boys to quit 
using tobacco.” 

“It does seem terrible to think of their running such 
risks as Prof. Porter did,” added Minnie. 

“We thought,” said Nellie, “if we would write a 
petition depicting the dangers of the habit, and explain 
how horridly we detest it, they would all quit.” 

“Now that looks plausible,” answered Mary, “but I 
fear they would laugh at us for our pains,” 


27 


COFFIN NAIFS : THF STORY OF JANF M^'CREGOR 

“That’s just what we were talking' about at dinner,” 
said Sallie. “Arthur and Josiah said if girls would 
mitten such fellows, that might help.” 

“Why, yes,” replied Minnie, “that would be better.” 

“If we were all brave enough to do it and stick to 
it,” observed Lucy. 

“To, be sure! We’d need a deal o’ backbone, for it 
canna’ be dane in a minute,” said Jane. 

The girls were silent a moment. Marv smiled a 
little bit, and resumed her study, but Lucy was thinking 
seriously.' Could this girlish enthusiasm be turned to 
^^ccount for good? 

^‘Elsie,” asked Sallie, “did you notice Flossie’s new 
dress today?"' 

“Oh, yes, she always has nice dresses; it was real 
pretty.” 

“Oh, wasn't it superb, and wasn't her ribbon lovely?’’ 
asked Nellie. 

“What is the use?” thought Lucy, “when a pretty 
ribbon diverts their thoughts so quickly?” Looking up 
she saw Minnie still serious, and Jane in a brown study, 
heedless of the prattle about dress. 

“Nae doot we ought to do it — start a society,” ex- 
claimed Jane suddenly, “and pledge not to go with to- 
bacco users, and have officers, and debate and all that.” 

“Dear me, that’s just the thing,” said Elsie. “No 
telling how much good we could do.” 

“Dinna think we can turn the world oopside doon.” 

Then Lucy talked to them of the influence wielded 
by girls, and their responsibility for its use. She said 
that if the majority would form such a society, and 
keep. their pledge, it might do good, but they ought to 
count the cost, and not expect too much. Minnie skipped 
around’ and said to her, in a low voice: “It must be 
right, because you never do anything you think is the 

28 


I'ilA'r NCT SOCIETY 

least bit wrong. But I would rather ask mamma about 
it.” . .. 

“That is right, Minnie. I wish I had a _ mother to 
ask.” 

Sallie spoke next, ‘T ain’t afraid but I can keep that 
pledge. I don’t want any beaux, whether they use to- 
bacco or not. If ever I get back to my rna. I’ll stay 
there and never marry.” The others smiled a little, but 
they decided, with the consent of the teacheis, to have 
a meeting called. 

Mary was elected temporary chairman of the meet- 
ing. Many of the girls attended, without knowing its 
purpose, until it was explained by Lucy in a short speech, 
winch she prefaced with a touching reference to their 
teacher’s death. Jane was the first on her feet, with : 
“I favor this society; but society, or no society, I dinna’ 
choose to keep company with tobacco users. I dare to 
do right, and gang my ain gait, beaux or no beaux. 
What matters it what others think, gin you be right 
yourself. But some folk daurna’ stand alone. They’re 
neither one thing nor the ither. So we will start a 
society, and make it the custom to hate tobacco. And 
we must na’ shove ahint, but keep it opp for aye.” 

Irene arose at once, saying: ‘T am opposed, to any 
such society. We would be meddling with ..what is none 
of our business. If men want to use tobacco, it is their 
own affair. I will not make myself a laughing, stock 
by trying to order the gentlemen around, as if I was 
their grandmother.” Elsie followed with: ;“We are 
only saying that if they like tobacco better tji^n they 
like our company, we will seek better company else- 
where.” Then Flossie arose. “Such a movement would 
be ridiculed in polite societ3y” she began, with a con- 
temnuous toss of her yellow curls. “In the city, a 
young man who does not smoke cigars is rated old- 


29 


CCi^FiN Nails : Thl sI'ory of janl m'^grlgor 

fashioned by the upper tens. You country girls cannot 
persuade me into any such nonsense.'’ 

“Oh, my,” whispered Sallie to Zina Green, “if Flossy 
don’t go into it, Nellie will lose Henry Carson. He’ll 
go back to Flossy.” Perhaps Nellie thought as much, 
for her cheeks grew red, then white, but she bravely 
rose, and spoke enthusiastically in favor of the society. 
Others followed, favoring it. 

A majority voted for the society, and it was started 
in due form. But a large minority waited to see if it 
was popular. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Something Did Happen* 


N ew YEAR’S morning came, and, with it. Prof. 
King, the new president. He was a dapper little 
man, with an intellectual face, who walked to the 
platfoim with a brisk, decided step. 

As the gills came down from the Seminary that 
evening, there, in the middle of the street, stood josiah, 
turning around, as a crowd of the younger boys pelted 
him. Between dodging snowballs he drawled, “The 
Bible says: — Tf any man — smite youl — on one cheek 
— turn to him — the other.’ ” 

“I’d give it back to ’em, Josiah, good as they send, 
so I would,” called Sallie. 


30 


SOMETHING DID HAPPEN 

‘The biule says: ‘Return good — for evil.’ Oh! 
— ouneiiuuus hard. You ought — to be ashamed 
— Cl iiineiceiit man." With a rush they tum- 
mm m the ditch, and washed his face, while he 
ijcgged pitiiuily. 

“The lubberly poltroon!” exclaimed Jane. 

That evening Philip Dayton was trying to bend his 
mind to the solution of a difficult problem, when he was 
disturbed by a knock at his door. Joe Blazer and Henry 
Cai son entered, and, after friendly greetings, and a 
little school news, Henry pulled a package from his pock- 
et saying: 

“Got a present from an old chum who is traveling 
in Cuba. The dandiest cigars, real Havanas. Have a 
smoke ?” 

“Since Prof. Porter’s death I have almost decided 
to quit smoking,” returned Philip. 

“Nonsense! Don’t let Prof. Felton’s fanaticism keep 
you from enjoying a luxury.” 

“Honestly, Henry, my eyes have bothered me for 
some time, and the doctor told me that I was smoking 
too much, and I have limited myself to two smokes a 
day.” 

“Sorry for your eyes, but you must break your rule 
this time.” 

“WTll, just this once, but I sometimes wish I had 
never formed the habit.” 

“Bother the habit! Have a good time while you’re 
young. Here, Joe, have another.” 

“I never refuse a cigar,” answered Joe. 

“Tom wrapped them in newspapers,” continued 
Henry, after the boys had complimented their quality, 
“and fooled the custom house out of the duty.” 

“Why! that was cheating the government,” said 
Philip. . , 


COI'^J'IN NAIIvS : thj- story or janr m^grrgor 

“You bet! But it wont break Uncle Sam/' 

“But it was aisiioiiest, and it hurts your friend’s 
cuaiactti, ctiid yours, too, to accept dishonest gains,” 
X .i.iip continued, laying the cigar down. 

“You're too honest for your own good. You’ll never 
succeed.” 

“I do not want to succeed at the cost of my self- 
respect.” 

“Didn’t know you were such a Puritan,” said Joe. 

“How do you like our new president ? ’ asked Henry, 

“Very well. He seems energetic and cultured, a little 
self important, however.” 

“Oh, yes, he does feel his oats a little, but then he is 
fresh from the University. Right up to date. He wants 
us to organize our classes, and get up class spirit, and a 
gymnasium, and a ball team.” 

“Those things may be well enough, but my studies 
keep me busy. 1 have little time for play.” 

“Have you fellows found out what the girls are up 
to, about some mysterious pledge?” asked Joe. 

“No,” answered Philip, “I ha-ve heard nothing.” 

. “Flossy hinted that the McGregor dumpling had put 
the girls up to giving us smokers the mitten,” remarked 
Henry. 

“She’s as independent as a hog on ice,” returned Joe. 

“Nobody cares what she says, though,” said Henry. 
Tlie other girls are certainly too well bred to interfere 
with a gentleman’s habits.” 

“How about Nellie, if it is true?” asked Joe. 

“Let me just ask Nellie for her company, and I don’t 
give a fig for her pledges.” 

“And Mis's Lucy, hey?” Joe queried, turning to 
Philip. 

“Miss Lambert has the right to decide what com- 
pany she wishes,” 


32 


something did happen 

Wednesday morning brought the Athenian society 
meeting with its usual round of debates and recitations/ 
Among the latter was one by Jane McGregor, entitled, 
“No Kisses for a Smoker,” which was greeted by a con- 
temptuous smile from some of the boys. 

Then followed the Athenian Torchlight, read by 
Mary and Nellie. After several of the usual short essays; ' 
Mary read an article telling of the sudden death of some 
tobacco users, and finishing thus; ‘‘How disgusting are 
the yellow teeth and dirty lips of old tobacco users'." 
Not only their own breath and clothing, but the clothing 
of their families, smell of the foul weed. Gentlemen, 
we beg of you to quit this habit, before you become 
slaves. A clergyman who saw that it injured his use- 
fulness, said : T have tried a hundred times to conquer 
this appetite. I never succeed.’ A lawyer said to "a 
friend : ‘I will give you a hundred dollars if you will 
tell me how to quit using tobacco, and not return to it 
again.” It is more degrading to be slaves to a low-lived' 
habit, than to a human master. Young men, will you 
be slaves, or free men ?” 

Following that, Nellie read some local pleasantries, 
and then this announcement: “An organization of 
young ladies, called the Anti-Nicotines, have signed the 
following pledge: ‘I promise never to marry, nor to 
keep company with, any man who uses tobacco, and to 
use all laudable means to oppose the tobacco habit.’ We 
have taken this step because w^e think the use of tobacco 
is wrong, and we have determined to do what we can 
to check the evil. We intend to stand by the right. Now, 
young gentlemen, we ask you who are guilty to quit thQ 
habit, not for our sakes, but for your own.” 

The boys looked at each other significantly. After 
the society adjourned, several of the young men waited’ 
in the vestibule, among Ih/m Henry Carson — hand'- 


33 


COFFIN NAILS : THF STORY OF JANE m'GREGOR 

some, genial, wealthy, and well aware of these charms. 
When Nellie came out of the cloak-room, he asked to 
escort her home. Her face turned pale, but she uttered 
a very decided “No, sir.” The other boys took warning, 
and let the grils pass out. 

This episode created a slight commotion, but it was 
soon overshadowed by a new excitement. That school, 
like many seminaries, had but three classes : Freshmen, 
Juniors and Seniors. The Juniors and Freshmen im- 
agined that something was going to happen, but just 
what, was hard to tell. The Seniors were observed, first 
in one room, and then in the other, whispering confiden- 
tially, and, as soon as one of the other classes noticed 
them, they separated. One evening the Seniors were 
closeted with Prof. King. George and Charley hid in 
the boys’ cloak room, adjoining, and tried to listen. 
They slipped out before he dismissed the Seniors, and 
joined Jane and Sallie, who were waiting, and who in- 
quired eagerly if he were scolding them. 

“It did not thound like a reprimand, I heard him 
thay ‘up to date.’ ” lisped Charley. 

“And what do you think?” said George, “I heard 
him say ‘Universalist ;’ guess he don’t believe in the hot 
place.” 

“Universalists !” exclaimed Jane, “university, wasn’t 

it ?” 

“Guess it was, he has university on the brain.” 

Josiah helped to keep up an interest in the new soci- 
ety by his officious talk. He heard a little of the girls’ 
plans at Mrs. Mallows’ table, and elaborated them in 
his telescopic brain. He advised his schoolmates : 

“You boys better be abstaining from your low down 
practice. Them girls have sent for deficent tracts to 
overthrow a wheelbarrow. They are goin’ to employ 

34 - 


soME:'rHiNc DID Happen 

me on a colpertour mission, distributin’ them tracts p 61 *- 
tainin’ to the abominatin’ weed. 

The girls did send for some tracts and distributed 
them among the tobacco users, but they did not ask Jo- 
siah’s help. He had caught the idea from one of Sallie’s 
jokes. Another of her jokes made Lucy no little trouble. 
When the girls sent for their tracts, the society money 
ran short, and Lucy finished paying for them. Arthur 
remarked: “Lucy must have a gold mine.” Sallie took 
it up, and kept teasing her about her gold mine, advis- 
ing Josiah to study mining, so he could work it. Josiah 
kept trying to walk to and from society with her, with- 
out asking her leave. She made all manner of excuses, 
and avodied him in every way possible, but he would 
not take the hint. He was constantly boasting to the 
boys : “It aint every fellow what can keep company with 
a lady what owns a gold mine.” 

The three societies had decided to unite and invite 
the public for a couple of evenings to a program consist- 
ing of music, recitations and debates, to raise money 
to furnish the society rooms. The girls had challenged 
the boys to debate the tobacco question, and the chal- 
lenge had been accepted. Mary, Lucy, Jane and Nellie 
had been selected by the girls, and on Friday evening 
they were to meet to prepare for the debate. As usual 
Sallie remained in the dining room to romp with Bennie 
awhile. At length she. said : “It is time for Bennie to 
go to bed, and let Sallie study.” So she put on his 
gown, and tucked him in his crib. 

“Put Dotty in too,” and she put his kitty in with 
him. Then he reached his arms up around Sallie’s neck, 
and kissed her good-night, saying : “I loves ’on, Sallie.” 

As she was starting up stairs, Nellie and Minnie 
came in. 

' “Oh, Sallie, wait a minute,” whispered Nellie, as 

35 


COFFIN NAIIvS : the: story ot jane m'gregor 

they^ started up stairs; “you know Mary is a Senior. 
What in the, world are the Seniors up to, did the boys 
find out?” 

“They think Prof. King has put the Seniors up to 
some class prank.” 

“Of all things! What does it mean? Pm most dead 
with curiosity.” 

“You don’t think they will hurt anybody, do you?” 
asked Minnie. 

“Plush! Hurt nobody! It’s all a joke,” replied 
Sallie. 

, Upstairs they ran, and found the girls with their 
' books out. Jane had a temperance scrap-book, Lucy 
had borrowed some big books of Dr. Hawley, and Mary 
had found some census reports in the library. 

“We are looking over our books and papers, and sort- 
ing our material,” said Lucy. “Each one of us will talk 
about a different part of the subject.” 

The last class had recited, a few evenings after this, 
and the tramping of the throng of outgoing students on 
the stairs and corridors had died into silence. But Lucy 
still sat in the music room, where she had been practicing 
■"her lesson. It was a gloomy day, so dark she could 
scarcely see her notes, one of those days that takes the 
courage out of the heart, and makes one see the darkest 

■ ^side. ^ Her fingers were no longer practicing chords, but 
werU softly thrumming “Home, Sweet Home.” A for- 

. Torn, homesick feeling came over her. She was lonely. 
Not a place in the wide world that she could call home. 
An only child, bereft of her father in childhood, she and 
hM* mother had been all in all to each other, sharing 
.their joys and sorrows, their thoughts and plans. The 
‘mother had inculcated in the heart of her daughter re- 

■ ‘hgious principles,* earnest devotion to duty, and noble 
aspirations for usefulness. But she died, just as Lucy 


something did happen 

reached womanhood, and she felt keenly the need of a 
mothei:’s guiding love and sympathy. 

She was beginning to feel that there was one who 
appreciated her, when this question of duty stepped in 
between them. Was this struggle for reform practical? 
Was it worth what it cost? What could a handful of 
girls do against a world-wide evil? And the constant 
annoyance of having a silly fellow, like Josiah, claim 
her attention, because he, too, pretended to be a reformer, 
was more than she could bear. And there was so much 
criticism of their conduct, too. Mrs. Mallows had taken 
pains to repeat it all in their ears. Some said that they 
were doing more harm than good; others that they were 
bold and unladylike ; and still others, that they were fool- 
ish, and wasting time when they ought to be studying. 
The sneers that only aroused Jane’s combativeness, or 
were passed by with a laugh by Mary or Nellie, cut her 
to the quick. Sh e admitted to herself that she had 
thought Philip Dayton a man of such integrity of char- 
acter that, when once his attention was called to the evil 
of the smoking habit, he would abandon it. But new 
she knew that he was to be one of the speakers on the 
negative. Perhaps she ought to be thankful that she 
had learned so soon of his habit, and his persistence in 
standing with its defenders. Had she not taken this 
public stand against the evil, perhaps she would have 
learned, too late, that she could not trust a man who was 
a slave to a filthy habit. She felt that, whether or not 
they succeeded in accomplishing anything, she must be 
true to her own idea of right. Yet why sliould she, a 
young girl, set herself up as wiser and better tlian thous- 
ands of older people? She longed for some friend in 
whom she could confide. To be sure, she had an aunt 
who generously insisted on giving her a home during 
vacation, but she was not like mother. Mrs. Mallows 


37 


CO^^IN NAlIvS : THK STORY OR JANR m'GRRGOR 

tried to be motherly, but she was superficial, so very dif- 
ferent from her own mother. Mary Garner was kind, 
and doubtless would be glad to help her, in her practi- 
cal common-sense way, but, naturally reserved and reti- 
cent, Lucy shrank from confiding her feelings even to 
k>er. 

Just then she heard a single footfall breaking the 
silence of the hall. Thinking it one of the teachers, she 
began gathering up her music. It paused at the open 
door, and then entered. She turned, to see Philip Day- 
ton standing near her. “Excuse me. Miss Lambert,” 
he said, “but I was passing, and wish to ask you a ques- 
tion. Are you and Miss Warren and Jane McGregor 
in earnest in your singular project? or are you merely 
playing a part?” 

“Certainly, we are in earnest.” 

“And I suppose you expect to turn the world upside 
down?” I 

“I think Jane and Nellie do, but I am not such an 
enthusiast, I hope, however, to do some good, in a small 
way.” 

“People of good judgment should not allow them- 
selves to be led by enthusiasts into such Utopian 
schemes.” 

Lucy hesitated a moment, then said, with forced 
calmness, “Do not mistake my meaning. I always de- 
spised tobacco, and have always felt that my — my inti- 
mate friends must be free from its use, but I had not ex- 
pected to make a public demonstration of my principles, 
until Jane spurred us up to showing our colors.” 

“I had supposed you above coquetry,” he replied, 
turning to leave the room. 

“Mr. Dayton.” He turned in the doorway, noting 
as he did so, her white face, and the tremble of the hand 
that held her roll of music, and wondered whether it 

38 


some:thing did happe:n 

was caused by pain, or merely embarrassment. “In jus- 
tice to myself,” she continued, “I must say that I did 
not know that you smoked until after Mr. Porter’s 
death.” 

“Thank you.” It was spoken with cool politeness, 
and he was gone. She listened as his steps passed down 
the walk. 

“Have I wronged a man’s heart? Am I doing more 
harm than good ?” she asked herself. Dropping her head 
on the instrument, she moaned, “Oh, mother, mother!” 
and the lines of the sweet poem came to her lips : 

“Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight! 

Make me a child again, just for tonight; 

Mother, come back from the echoless shore; 

Take me again to your arms as of yore.’’ 

It seemed to her, as she looked forward, that this 
disappointment, that made the path of duty so hard, 
would enshroud her whole life with gloom. She did not 
know, as older people know, that these hard lessons 
taught by experience, however sore they may be at the 
time, are but episodes in a long life of sunshine and 
shadow, and that we often look back upon them as val- 
uable lessons. But her trouble seemed very real and 
bitter to her. “It is so lonely, so lonely, I haven’t a 
friend to help me do right,” she sobbed. Then she re- 
membered that she had a heavenly friend to whom she 
had gone in trouble, and that He, too, had been tempted 
and tried. The memory of His long, lonely vigil in the 
wilderness rose before her as in a vision. She saw him 
wandering among rocky hills, or resting His weary head 
on a stone. She felt the terrible loneliness that oppressed 
Him as He realized that he had turned his back on home 
and mother and youthful companions, to take up His 
^^ovk — with its days of v.eariness and privation, its 
homeless nights when He should have no place to lay 
His head. She comprehended how His sensitive soul 

89 


cpiP^iN NAiivS : the: story or jane: m"gre:gor 

shrank back as He looked forward to the throngs — re- 
pulsive with dirt, disease and deformity — who would 
crowd about Him. She felt His craving for sympathy 
and love of the friends who would misunderstand Him, 
and His dread of the sneers, gibes and persecutions. 
She seemed to see His struggle against those fierce temp- 
tations to use His divine power to overcome His enemies, 
and to raise Himself to wealth and dominion, by seating 
Himself on the throne of David, and crushing the king- 
doms of earth under His feet. She seemed to see Him 
putting them all behind Him, and praying for strength 
to accomplish the work for which He came into the 
world. 

And then she prayed, and a new strength and calm- 
ness came into her heart. 

She heard the janitor closing the doors, and, rising 
hastily, she saw that it was dusk, and hurried home in 
the gathering gloom. 

Tuesday morning was crisp and cold, and many of 
the students were warming their fingers around the big 
Seminary stoves. George Winthrop, who boarded at 
Mr. Martin’s, had gone home the previous evening with 
a couple of Freshmen who lived out in the country. 
Charley Martin was watching for them, and greeted 
them with : ‘T’m awfu’ glad you’ve come tho’ quick. 
Them Theniors are up to thome trick. They’ve been 
sneaking’ round that Theminary bathment door all night. 
They got hammer an’ nailth, an’ ladder. But when I 
tried to get in the doorth wath all locked. I saw a light 
in the athembly room before day.” 

They hurried to the Seminary, for it was nearly 
school-time, and slipped quietly up and opened the as- 
sembly room door. Their excited exclamations caused 
Charley to say, ''Huth! Huth!” The Senior colors, long 
streamers of bright cambric, were tacked up along th^ 

4Q 


something did happen 

high panelled ceiling. Down they hurried, and whis- 
pered explanations soon brought an excited throng of 
Juniors and Freshmen. 

“What does it mean?” “How on earth did they 
get up there?” and “What will the professor say?” were 
some of the excited questions. 

“I fear this will lead to serious trouble,” said Lucy. 
“Why couldn't they have put up the school colors,, if 
they wanted to surprise us?” 

“No doubt they thought to taunt us by flaunting their 
red rags in our faces,” answered Jane. 

“Prof. King helped them plan it. I’ll warrant,” said 
George. “I know now that was his University trick.’' 

“Tear it down! Tear it down!” 

“Where’s a ladder?” 

But a couple of the boys had run for a ladder the 
first thing, and now came up the back stairway. But a 
Senior caught sight of it, and cried : “Seniors to the 
rescue!’* There was a rush for the door, just as the 
ladder was safely inside, and the lock was hardly turned 
till they crashed against it, yelling, “Don’t you dare tear 
that down !” 

“Open this door, or we’ll tell Prof. King.” 

“Unlock it, or we’ll call the janitor.” 

“Oh. don’t do that, or somebody’ll get hurt,” cried 
Minnie as they set the ladder on top of the table on the 
platform. 

“O, dear! Too short.” 

“Bring a chair, quick, Jane!” called George. 

“Not I. I have naught to do with it!” 

“Who would have thought Jane was a fraid-cat?” 

“Dinna call me a cooard ! It was wrong to put that 
oop, and it’s wrong for us to tear it down.” But Nellie, 
all excitement, had brought the chair. It was put on 
the table, and the ladder on it. 


41 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

“Oh, George, let Charley go up, he’s the lightest,” 
said Minnie. 

“But my arms are longest. Hold the chair steady, 
boys.” In the bustle inside they had not noticed the 
quiet outside. From the hall window to the portico 
Henry had beckoned the Seniors to follow him. He re- 
membered an assembly room window with a broken 
catch, about four feet from the end of the portico. He 
snatched a window pole from the corner, as he ran, and 
from the portico threw the window up suddenly, and 
leaped in, followed by other Seniors. They rushed up 
with a deafening class yell. There was an excited skir- 
mish — pushingl — pulling — loud words, and Minnie’s 
screams. Above the din Jane’s voice rang out, “Jump, 
George! Jump toward the wall!” George jumped, 
taking the streamers with him, just as Henry’s heavy 
kick sent the table, chair, and ladder tumbling off the 
platform. An angry scuffle for the streamers followed. 
In a moment they were torn to shreds. 

In the confusion, Jane unlocked the door, and ran 
for water, when she met Prof. King in the corridor. 

“What’s the trouble?” 

“A class fight. Minnie’s fainted. I’m going for 
water.” 

“Order! Silence! Take your seats.” 

Had a bombshell burst in their midst, it would not 
have startled them more. Sending for the janitor to 
clear the rubbish, as soon as Minnie revived. Prof. King 
said: 

“Fun is all right in its place, but this is not the time 
nor place, and disordered clothing, and hair awry, are 
not becoming in the schoolroom. Seeing that the Seniors 
had succeeded in putting their colors in such an inacces- 
sible place, you might have allowed them the satisfaction 
of keeping them there one day, at least.” 

. 4 ^ 


SOM^tHikG blD HAPPEN 

“They practiced your preaching. It is wrong tc 
teach classes to quarrel,” Jane said, springing to her feet. 

“Never mind that now, take your seat.” 

Jane was afterward called to the office, and repri- 
manded for disrespect to her teacher. 

“I dinna mean it aforehand,” she, replied, “the words 
came skelpin' themselves oot afore I thought. But I 
dinna know it was wrong. I told the truth, and stood 
oop for the right. Father used to say ‘Dinna fear to 
stand oop for the right ; an’ dinna fear to say that wrong 
is wrong.’ If I mistook the right, I am sorry.” 

Telling her that, hereafter, she must be more re- 
spectful to her teachers, and allow them to deci k what 
was right, in the absence of her parents, she was excused. 


CHAPTER V. 


A CoFPiN. 


T he night of the entertainment found the assembly 
room crowded. After some preliminary business 
and recitations, Mary, who was an experienced de- 
bater, opened the discussion. “Honorable judges, ladies 
and gentlemen,” she began; “The use of tobacco is a 
waste of money, and therefore wrong. If a man smokes 
three six-cent cigars a day, it amounts to $65.70 — say, 
in round numbers, to sixty dollars a year. If he, in- 
stead, would put this money at compound interest at six 


43 


COFFIN NAILS : Thf story 6f janF m^grfgor 

per cent, it would, in ten years, amount to $790.58; in 
twenty years to $2,006.46; and in fifty years to $17,- 
415.52. Has a man the right to burn up the price of. a 
home, and leave his children homeless? Probably, a 
hundred million people use tobacco, for which they spend 
nearly five billion dollars a year. People grumble about 
high taxes, but the tobacco money for one year would 
run the government three or four years. They complain 
of hard times, but, every year, they burn up from thirty 
to a hundred dollars each. The United States raises 
about six hundred million pounds of tobacco a year, be- 
sides importing cigars from Cuba and Mexico. The 
people of this country spend over seven hundred million 
dollars a year for tobacco. 

The salaries of all the preachers in this country 
amounts to only six million dollars, less than a hun- 
dredth part as much as the tobacco costs. All the bread 
eaten in the United States costs only about five-eighths 
as much as the tobacco. All of our meat costs less than 
half as much as the tobacco. And this useless weed costs 
almost as much as all the clothing worn by rich and ]X)or. 
Tlie cost of all the schools in this boasted land of educa- 
tion is less than one-seventh of the cost of the tobacco 
burned in pipes and cigars. Add to this the cost of the 
buildings burned by careless smokers. 

Half a million acres of the richest land, in the United 
States alone, is wasted in raising this poisonous plant, 
enough to raise twenty million bushels of corn. It is 
estimated that ten times that amount of land, the world 
over, is used for that baneful crop; enough to raise food 
for all earth’s Starving millions in every famine-stricken 
land. 

Is it right to take the bread out of the mouths of child- 
ren, and feed it to dogs? 

There are men, even in this country, rolling their quids 


44 


A COI^]?IN 


like sweet morsels under their tongues, whose children 
are ragged and ignorant. I appeal to you, in the name 
of all the famished children, is it right to cultivate a 
poison where wholesome food ought to grow,?” 

Of course they cheered the retiring speaker. They 
always cheered the young people at Eudora. 

“Henry likes to sit at the back of the room, so that 
people can see him as he goes up,” whispered Irene to 
Flossy, who retorted: “He knows he is worth looking 
at, as well as worth listening to. Where is Phil? I don’t 
see him. Wonder if he has backed out, after all?” con- 
tinued Flossy, but in so loud a' whisper that Lucy, who 
sjat near, heard every word. 

“Yonder he is, in the corner. Why should he back 
out?” 

“I thought maybe Lucy had given him his orders. 
Henry Said he had hard work to coax him to debate, and 
today he tried to beg off with the plea that he couldn’t 
spare time from his lessons.” 

“Don’t you fret yourself. He is too smart to be caught 
with their crazy chaff. I saw him smoking a cigar today, 
and he hasn’t spoken to her since Christmas that I’ve 
heard of. He isn’t getting as good grades as he did, 
somehow, but the boys say he studies awful hard.” 

By this time Henry had begun his reply with a prelude 
of flattery to the beautiful ladies and' intelligent gentle- 
men. “You have listened,” he contiued, “with patience, 
to the dry figures with which my opponent has worried 
you. She has shown you the cost of one of the luxuries,, 
of civilization. Civilized men can afford luxuries, but 
savages content theniselves with the bare necessities of 
existence. The amount of money spent for luxuries is. 
one of the criterions by which we measure the advance 
of a nation in civilization. The lady does not admire 
our luxury, but tastes differ. Smoking was fashionable 

.45 


COFFIN nails: the story or jane m'gregor 

for women a generation ago, and they enjoyed it with as 
much gusto as men. Even at this day, it is fashionable 
in some parts of the world, but it happens to be out of 
style here. My kindhearted opponent seems much ex- 
ercised because this money was not used for charity. I 
do not claim to be perfectly unselfish, but our lady friends 
are not guiltless in this respect. In fine dress and house 
furnishings they are equally extravagant. They spend 
a hundred and twenty-five million dollars a year for 
clothing. I do not object to this, but people who live in 
glass houses should not throw stones. She makes much 
ado over people’s grumbling about taxes. But the ma- 
ligned tobacco-user does more for his government than 
any one else except the whiskey drinker. The revenue 
paid our government by tobacco is twenty-six million 
dollars a year, and in England it is thirty-two million 
dollars a year. As for the poverty she depicts, of course 
we should all be charitable, but she need not try to work 
on our tender feelings. The poor are used to their pov- 
erty, and do not miss the things they never had. My 
idea of doing good is giving pleasure, and what can give 
a man more pleasure than to lean back in an easy chair 
and see the smoke curling up from a fragrant cigar? 
Therefore, ladies and gentlemen, I deny that the use of 
tobacco is an evil, and claim that it is a blessing.” 

The cheering was loud, by the boys and old tobacco 
users, for Henry’s delivery had been eloquent, but the 
audience was a little disappointed in the young orator. 

The society adjourned for the customary recess, and 
there was a general buzz of conversation in the room. 
But Sallie and her chum, Zina Green, with their usual 
restless hilarity, ran downstairs, and out, bareheaded, in 
the cold, after the snow to eat. 

“Oh, my! What’s that light in the attic for?” asked 
Sallie. 


46 


A COFFIN 


would just like to know what theyVe doing up 
there,” answered Zina, in a low tone. “I left a book her^ 
and came after it about dark, and I heard the queerest 
squeaking sound up in the attic, like somebody sawing 
wood. I was scared.” 

“It’s just some of the boys making something up 
there, so it is. Let’s slip up while they are in society, 
and see what they are making. Hurry, before some- 
body sees us.” 

So up two flights of stairs they ran, on tiptoe, but the 
attic door was locked. Sallie was not to be fooled, and, 
stooping, she peeped in at the keyhole. Suddenly she 
stepped back, with a startled whisper: “Oh, my! It’s 
a coffin!” 

“A coffin! You don’t say so!” and down went Zina’s 
eye to the keyhole. But she jumped up more quickly 
than Sallie did, with a frightened: “Pity sakes! Let’s 
run down quick. I’m awful scared.” 

“Oh. my! Are they going to murder somebody? It’s 
big enough for a man,” Sallie whispered, as they slipped 
cautiously down. Jane, coming into the corridor for a 
drink, saw two pale, frightened looking girls. 

“Why, Sallie, what’s frighted you?” 

“There’s the awfulest thing in the attic,” whispered 
Zina. I 

“Hush! It’s a great big coffin, so it is,” whispered 
Sallie. 

“Nonsense! It passes all what a deal you can make 
out of naught.” 

“Just come up and see,” said Sallie. 

“I won’t go up there again. I’m awful scared,” said 
Zina. 

“We can’t go now, there’s the bell for society; we can 
go after it’s out.” 


4Z 


COFFIN NAILS : the: story ol jane: m'gregor 

“Oh ! Don't you tell anybody what we saw/’ chimed 
in both girls. 

They were called to order, and it was announced that 
the debate would be resumed, to be followed by music 
and recitations. Lucy’s turn had come, and she . was 
much embarrassed, so much so that there was a percep- 
tible tremor in her voice, as she explained that she was to 
tell them something of the effects of tobacco on the 
health. “The negative,” she said, “failed to answer the 
arguments given by my colleague, but had much to say 
of the pleasure given by tobacco. If a child took pleas- 
ure in eating poisoned candy, would you hesitate about 
taking it away from him for fear of spoiling his enjoy- 
ment? Tobacco is a poison. Give a boy a small piece, 
and tell him to chew it, and to spit out all the juice. In 
half an hour he will be deathly sick.. Go to a druggist 
and tell him you want a poison that will make a person 
violently ill by simply holding a small piece in the mouth, 
without swallowing a particle, and he will hunt his 
shdves in vain for one that, used in that manner, is 
equally violent, unless it be prussic acid. 

“Doctors sometimes give tobacco as an emetic, but 
medical books warn them not to use it except in extreme 
cases of poisoning, and they give instances of death,., 
caused by giving it for that purpose. Physicians estimate 
that twenty thousand people die every year, in this coun- 
try, from the effects of tobacco, and that when a tobacco 
user is sick, it takes nearly twice as much medicine to 
have any effect. Dr. Gibbons says : ‘Tobacco impairs 
digestion, poisons the blood, depraves the vital powers, 
causes the limbs to tremble, and. weakens^ and otherwise 
disorders the heart.’ Dr. Jackson, who treated five 
thousand tobacco users, declares: ‘The use of tobacco 
by our people is far more deleterious in its effects on their 
health, than the use of alcoholic drinks.’ Dr. Stiles, the 

48 


A CO]^]^IN 


author of the National Dispensatory, says of tobacco: 
‘It lessens the natural appetite and more or less impairs 
digestion, while it irritates the mouth and throat, ren- 
dering the latter habitually congested, and destroying 
the purity of the voice. It renders the vision weak and 
uncertain, similar derangements of hearing occur, with 
ringing in the ears.’ Dr. Hammond, one of the highest 
medical authorities in America, says : ‘It predisposes to 
neuralgia, indigestion, and other affections of the ner- 
vous, circulatory, and digestive organs.’ Dr. Solly, F. 
R. S., says : ‘Smoking is one of the insidious causes of 
paralysis.’ 

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, I have given you the tes- 
timony of the most eminent physicians in Europe and 
America. Do you not think that a poison which causes 
so much sickness and death, ought to be prohibited by 
law^? Gentlemen, I beg of you to give up the habit be- 
fore you bring suffering on yourselves, and become a 
burden to your friends.” 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Philip Dayton, as he 
stepped to the front, when the applause had ceased, “it 
becomes my duty to speak in opposition to the ladies. 
They are usually right, but on this question they have al- 
lowed their prejudice to carry them to extremes.. They 
have proved that tobacco is a poison when taken in large 
doses. So are many other substances that are valuable 
as medicines in small doses. Doctors used to prescribe 
tobacco for toothache, earache, and dyspepsia. Farmers 
find it useful to destroy vermin on stock, and the women 
use it in their linen closets for the same purpose. 
It is useful as a disinfectant, destroying unwholesome 
odors. Physicians find it the most rapid emetic in case 
of strychnine poisoning. If its sale should be prohibited, 
where could it be obtained for these useful purposes? 
When a man is tired, it is a rest to sit down and smoke 


49 


COFFIN NAILS : THF STORY OF JANF m'GRFGOR 

and it is a help to study and soothes the nerves when he 
is irritated. Our opponent talked about tobacco killing 
people. I have known some tobacco users who were old, 
and I have known people to die young who did not use 
tobacco. I have known tobacco users who seemed robust, 
and I have known sickly men who did not use tobacco.” 

When the society adjourned, Sallie and Zina were 
afraid even to look toward the stairs, for fear somebody 
would see them. The next morning Sallie and Jane went 
early, and tiptoed up the attic stairs. When Jane peeped 
through the keyhole, she saw a large box, shaped like a 
coffin, and partially painted black, and the room was lit- 
tered with shavings. Sallie would not look again, but 
stood near the head of the stairs to watch, and she whis- 
pered : 

“Was it a coffin? I’m awfully afraid somebody’ll find 
us here.” 

“Dinna’ be dotty! You are making o’er much of it. 

I heard Prof. Felton tell the boys that he needed a box 
for the skeleton. • No doubt the boys are chaffing him 
by making it like a coffin.” 

“But won’t you promise, Jane, on your word and 
honor, that you won’t ever tell anybody we saw it?” 

Days passed, and nobody was murdered, and nothing 
more was heard of the coffin. Sallie and Zina finally 
concluded that Jane’s supposition was correct; 

Down in the woods, near the railroad was a skating 
pond, to which Sallie and Jane had gone with the crowd 
on Friday evening. After a merry time, they started for 
home. 

“Sallie, let’s cut across by the grave-yard, it’s nearer.” 

“Oh! I’m afraid.” 

“It passes all how fearsome you are. There’s naught 
to fear. Come on.” So, bidding the girls good night, 


A C0]?FIN 


they took the lonely street past the cemetery. Suddenly 
Sallie stopped, whispering, ‘‘I hear folks talking.” 

“It was naguht but an owl,” laughed Jane. 

Presently she stopped again to listen. “Oh, my! It 
is voices in there,” she whispered, catching Jane’s arm. 

“It’s some boys coming back from skating, cross lots 
through the cemetery, no doubt. Stand still in the shade 
till they pass by.” A row of tall, untrimmed evergreens 
adorned the whole front of the cemetery, except about a 
rod on each side of the gate. The girls stepped back 
against the fence, in the shadow of the overhanging 
boughs, and waited. To their surprise the owners of the 
voices came up the street toward them, and turned in at 
the gate. As they came out into the moonlight, the girls 
could distinctly see six men, bearing a large coiffin. 

“It’s a funeral,” whispered Sallie. “Let’s run.” 

“Hush! Keep still and see what it is.” 

“The , pall-bearers, if such they were, turned to the 
right, after entering the gate, and came down along the 
inside of the evergreens toward them. The girls could 
not see them distinctly, until the strange procession halt- 
ed in front of them, not more than a rod away. 

“Oh! It’s murder! It’s that same big black coffin,” 
gasped Sallie, clutching Jane’s arm. Jane put one arm 
around the poor child, who was trembling like a poplar 
leaf, and steadied herself by leaning on the fence; while 
she peered cautiously through the thick boughs to see if 
she could identify any of them. Just then the moon, 
which had gone under a cloud, burst out, and she saw 
that they all wore black masques over their faces. They 
set the coffin down, and some of them picked up spades 
and began digging, but she could see no grave. One of 
them appeared to be screwing the coffin lid on tighter, 
and a low, coarse voice said: “Screw it so tight the 


COI^I^IN nails: thL story ol jank m^’grlgor 

angel Gabriel can’t open it.” Suddenly the fence-board, 
against which they were leaning, cracked. 

“Hark! Somebody’s coming! We are discovered!” 
exclaimed one of the men. Dropping their tools, they 
ran, part toward the gate, but one — the one with the 
screwdriver — ran down towards the railroad, jumping 
the fence. The girls listened until the footsteps died 
away. 

“Are they all gone?” whispered Sallie. 

“To be sure! Ganged and left the dead man to the 
ghouls.” 

“Oh, my! Let’s run home quick.” 

“It’s an unco gruesome place, and no doubt we would 
best gang home, for you’re frighted fair to skirling, but 
I’m keen to make oot the meaning of the vallainy.” for 
Jane was sure she had recognized the voice. 

“Oh, my! Don’t stay any longer.” 

Thud! Thud! Thud! came from the cofhn. Sallie 
gave a stifled scream, and Jane clapped one hand over 
her mouth, throwing the other arm around her. 

The coffin lid flew off. The coffin tipped over, and 
the corpse rolled out. Sallie sank fainting against Jane, 
who caught hold of a tree for support. When she looked 
around, the supposed corpse — a big, burly man — was 
running toward the road, with an awkward lumbering 
gait that looked curiously familiar. And Jane laughed — 
her own impulsive hearty laugh. But it was not so 
tunny, after all, to be out there with a fainting girl in 
her arms. Giving Sallie a good shaking, and rubbing 
her face with snow, she was soon aroused. It took con- 
siderable explanation to relieve her fright, and on the 
way home she started at every sound. The folks had all 
retired, and they crept into bed. Sallie covered up her 
head, as soon as Jane blew out the light, and whispered: 
“Please don’t tell anybody what we saw tonight.” 


52 


ANOTHER COEEIN 


“Why not? What’s the wrong of it?” 

“I’m awful ’fraid somebody’ll kill us if they find out 
we saw.” 

“Don’t be such a dotty, there’s no danger.” 

“But promise on your word and honor you won’t tell.” 

Jane finally promised she would not tell unless the 
teachers asked her about it. 

Jane had been asleep an hour, perhaps, when she awoke 
and^aw a light shining up from the woods by the pond. 
It blazed up brightly for a bit, then died out. 

Next morning the girls were allowed to sleep late, and 
woke to find it snowing. Arthur and Josiah had gone 
home Friday evening. Mr. Mallows did not come home 
to dinner, and the day passed quietly. 


CHAPTER VI. 


Another Coeein. 


B etter lock the doors tonight,” said Mr. Mallows 
at the supper table, “there’s thieves in town.” 

“La sakes! What they stole?” 

“You couldn’t guess in a coon’s age.” 

“Just like a man, making folks guess, when they’re 
crazy to know. Didn’t steal them breastpins out o’ your 
showcase, did they?” 

“No, they stole a coffin, finest one in the shop.” 

“A coffin!” exclaimed Mrs. Mallows and Mary in a 
breath. 


53 


coi^i^iN NAILS : the: story jane: m'gri: gor 

“Yes, somebody smashed in the undertaker’s windows 
last night and stole the biggest coffin there.” 

“Who’s dead? Who did it? I never heard of steal- 
ing a coffin.” 

“Nobody’s dead that I’ve heard of. And that’s what 
everybody wants to know, ‘who did it?’ The snow’s 
covered up all the tracks, and it’s the greatest mystery 
ever was in this town.” 

Sallie turned white, and looked at Jane, who gave her 
a warning look, but, in the excitement no one noticed 
them. 

“That’s awful !” exclaimed Mrs. Mallows. “Some- 
body’s murdered, sure. 'Reckon I will lock the doors 
tonight.” 

“Oh my! Jane, I can’t understand; were there two 
coffins,” whispered Sallie, when they got unstairs. 

“I canna’ make it oot, I had no doubt that was the 
coffin we saw in the attic.” 

The storm increased in violence, snowing and drifting, 
so that it kept people at home on Sunday, and on Mon- 
day the students had hard work to reach the Seminary. 
It was several days before those who had gone to their 
country homes Friday evening got back to school. When 
Arthur returned to Mrs. Mallows’ Tuesday evening, 
Bennie hailed him noisily, and Mrs. Mallows greeted 
him, saying: “The house is mighty quiet without you 
and Josiah; even Jane and Sallie act like they had the 
blues.” 

“Well, I am glad somebody misses me. Isn’t this a 
terrible snow?” 

“La sakes! I havn’t seen nothin’ like it since I was 
a girl. I mind we had a candy pullin’ over to Smith’s, 
and we walked on top of the drifts, right over the fences.” 

“I walked over fences this morning, to reach the de- 
pot,” put in Arthur, who knew that it was useless to wait 


54 


ANOtHI^R COI^^IN 

for her to finish her story, for one thing always reminded 
her of another. 

“What’s come of Josiah? You don’t ’spose he sunk 
in one of those deep drifts, do you?” 

“Don’t fret yourself about Josiah. I wouldn’t care if 
he never came back. He’s always bothering me to show 
him how to work his problems, and if I refuse, he slips 
into the girls’ room, and steals Jane’s or Sallie’s papers 
and copies them. I caught him at it.” 

“The sneaking dastard!” exclaimed Jane. “I kent my 
lessons dinna ganged themselves off and home again with- 
out legs. I kenned he was a feckless hypocrite, with 
naught in him but what the spoon puts in.” 

“I did not know he was that bad,” began Mrs. Mal- 
lows, coming in with a hot dish, — “Scat! Are you all 
blind, standin’ here and lettin’ that cat get on the table? 
Scat there!” and she chased the offending kitten out of 
doors. Bennie caught his own kitten in his arms, and 
called, “Don’t hurt’s a poor kitty, muvver. ’Ou won’t 
make Dotty go out in ’e cold, will ’ou?” 

“No', Dotty may stay in if she’s good. Folks is ever- 
lastinly droppin’ starved cats on my step. I can’t turn 
around but that thing’s into somethin’. Dick may have 
it when he comes.” 

“Why ! Don’t you know he’s training his dog to kill 
cats?” asked Sallie. And Bennie, with terrified eyes, 
climbed on her lap, saying: “ Don’t let Dick Darnell 
take ’e poor kitty, will ’ou, Sallie?” 

“No, I guess mother’s 'joking, ’cause it got on the 
table.” 

“An’ ’ou won’t let ’im get Dotty?” 

Scon the girls hurried upstairs, for the following 
evening they were to finish their debate, and the other 
girls came over. After a little chat, Lucy asked, “Have 
you found anything more for your speech, Nellie?” 

55 


COFI^IN NAII.S : THIS story OF JANF m'GRFGOR 

“Yes, I thought of a nice exhortation to finish off 
with.” 

Just then they heard a pit-a-pat on the stairs, and a 
pleading voice, “Bennie want to come in, p’ease open ’e 
door.” Sallie started for the door, but Mary said, “No, 
Bennie, run down and stay with mother, we want to 
study.” Then they heard a sob, and the little voice 
pleaded, “P’ease open ’e door for Bennie an’ kitty.” 
Sallie opened it at once, but it was not Dotty that he held 
tightly, it was the stray kitten. “Dick’s cornin’, an’ he’ll 
make ’e bad dog eat kitty up,” he sobbed. 

“Oh my! Bennie, how cold your hands are, and your 
shoes are snowy; where have you been?” 

“Bennie run out ’e front door, an’ roun’ ’e house af’er 
kitty, an’ Bennie fall down in ’e snow.” 

“Come sit on Sallie’s lap by the fire, and warm your 
hands.” 

“Warm ’e kitty, too, poo’ kitty. ’Ou woil’t let Dick 
get kitty, will ’ou, Sallie?” 

“No, we’ll hide her up here, so Dick can’t find her. 
Does mother know you are up here?” 

“No, her don’t know. Muvver put kitty out in ’e 
cold, an’ said Dick may get ’e bad kitty.” 

Just then they heard Mrs. Mallows calling, “Kitty, 
kitty,” and heard Dick’s voice talking to her. Bennie 
jumped down, and ran and hid under the bed in the 
farther room, and lay there sobbing, with kitty hugged 
tightly in his arms. After awhile Mrs. Mallows’ voice 
was heard at the foot of the stairs, calling: 

“Is Bennie up there with the kitten?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” answered Mary. 

“I wondered what come of the sneakin’ thing. Ben- 
nie, come down now. Dick’s gone home. Come down 
an play with Dotty.” But Sallie could not coax him 
out. He only cried the harder. 


another COEEIN 


“Never mind, little man,” said his mother, “I’ll sec 
that I put that thievin' cat where Dick can get it when 
he comes for slop Thursday night.” 

Sallie coaxed Bennie out, after he was sure his mother 
had gone back to the kitchen, and he cuddled down in her 
lap, with one aim around her neck, and one around kitty. 
^ “I loves 'e poor cold kitty,” whispered the child. 

“And Dotty, too?” 

“Yes, I loves Dottie too, an’ Sallie, too.” 

. “And mother, too?” The child shook his head, say- 
ing: “Muvver bad.” 

“What? Don‘t you love mother a little bit?” 

“Jus’ a little bit. I loves her big some day, when her 
gets gooder.- I’loves 'on big now. Tell a story.” And 
Sallie told a story. 

“Where is Bennie?” asked Elsie, as Sallie came back 
into the room where the other girls were still talking 
about their debate. 

“I rocked him to sleep and put him to bed.” 

“I will take that kitten to school tomorrow,” said Jane. 
“He won’t fret about it, if he thinks it’s up there catching 
mice.” 

“You will have some good debaters against you to- 
morrow night,” said Minnie, reverting to the subject, 
“but I think you will win.” 

“To be sure we’ll win, dinna be cast doon,” returned 
Jane. 

T think Cyrus is the best debater in school,” said Elsie. 

“I think George is better,” replied Minnie. “He does 
not 'say such mean things about people, and he can talk 
and talk, like an orator.” 

“To be sure he can talk — an o’er muckle ’o words to a 
scant bit ’o thought,” retorted Jane. No doubt the boys 
think to lay us low, but dinn’a mourn to the breakin’ ’o 
your hearts.” 


57 


COI^FIN nails: THE) sTORY 01^ JANE M^GREGOk 

“Oh my! If you talk Scotch that way, people will 
laugh at you,” said Sallie. 

“Dinna fret, I know how to be careful of my words 
when I try.” 

The first thing Mr. Mallows 'said when he came to 
supper next evening, was : “They’ve found that coffin. ’ 

“La sakes ! Where’d they find it?” asked his wife. 

Dick Darnell and Ned Grimes were hunting rabbits in 
the evergreens, and saw a big black thing sticking up 
through the snow, and Dick says, T bet it’s that coffin.’ ” 

“Mercy, they’ve murdered somebody, and ‘got scared, 
and run off afore they got him buried. You hain’t heard 
tell of nobody disappearin’, 'have you?” 

“The boys probably saw a board sticking up in the 
snow, and were afraid to go near it,” said Arthur. 

“Sallie, let’s go study our lessons before society time,” 
said Jane. 

“At the debate that night: “Ladies and gentlemen,” 
Jane began, “you remember the arguments and facts by 
which my friends proved the costliness of the tobacco 
habit, and its injuriousness 'to the health, Tobacco does 
not hurt all people in the same way. It has a sharp nose 
to scent out the weakest part of the body. One of our 
opponents was so sure it would not hurt his health; let 
him beware lest it find his 'brain. Tonight I will give you 
a few facts about its effects on the mind. Dr. Willard 
Parker, of New 'York, examined the schools, and re- 
ported that ‘Tobacco is ruinous to our schools and col- 
leges, dwarfing body and mind of the 'pupils.’ Dr. Stev- 
enson says: ‘It is ruinous to intellect, deleterious to 
brain and nervous system.’ The Dublin Magazine says : 
‘The mental powers of many a boy are weakened by to- 
bacco smoke.’ The Scalpel, a 'paper published in Lon- 
don, and one of the best known medical papers in the 
world, says : ‘If there is a vice more prostrating to body 


another corein 


and mind, and more crucifying to all the spiritual nature, 
we have yet to be convinced of it.’ 

“Dr. Twitched, ‘of Boston, says: ‘Tobacco causes a 
loss of memory.’ And Dr. Brown, says : ‘There is no 
doubt that thousands destroy years of the ripest useful- 
ness, and induce imbecility and second childhood by the 
habit of using tobacco.’ 

“Dr. Gleason, of Philadelphia, tells us that “Tobacco 
causes mental ir’resolutibn^ impairs and weakens the 
mind, and blunts the highest and 'holiest feelings of the 
soul, and is the most common cause of that indefinable 
repression of spirits ‘commonly called the blues.’ And 
do you know, my friends,’’ asked Jane, “that this melan- 
choly, or the blues, as Dr. 'Gleason calls it, is the cause 
of many suicides? 

“Ladies and gentlemen, do you tire of so many quota- 
tions? Dinna weary, we have truths to fell that you 
ought to hear. 'We will make you see the truth, as well 
as hear it. You will see an uncanny sight tonight, one you 
never saw before, and may never see again. You will 
hear strange news tonight too, that will make you think 
of ghouls. So be alert.” ' 

These remarks had the intended effect. The people 
looked at each other wondeingly. “They say,” 'contin- 
ued Jane, with innocent sincerity, “that when a girl wears 
a stiff corset all the time, on taking it off, she feels as if 
she would fall to pieces, because the muscles have leaned 
on the corset until they have become weak and flabby. 
That is a sure sign it is hurting her. So, when tobacco 
hurts a man’s brain, he keeps it active by holding it up 
with more tobacco. But, when he stops using it, then he 
find how weak and flabby it has made his brain. Dr. 
Jackson said : ‘No one is sensible of the effects of tobac- 
co 'on the nervous system until he has attempted to aban- 
don its use.’ 


59 


COI^^IN NAII.S : THE story OE JANE m'GREGOR 

“When Louis Napoleon was emperor of France, he 
noticed that the increase in the tobacco revenue was in 
exact ratio to the increase of insanity. He appointed 
learned men to study the facts. They found that not 
only were people often made insane by using tobacco, 
but, as a rule, the smokers in schools and colleges fell 
behind their classes. So the emperor forbade boys using 
tobacco. In this country the insane asylum docto-rs tell 
us that out of the seventy thousand insane, at least fif- 
teen thousand were crazed by tobacco. Dr. Woodard, 
Superintendent of the Massachusetts Insane Asylum, 
quotes a large number of the most noted doctors who 
pronounce the use of tobacco one of the causes of insani- 
ty. And he states that much more than a fourth of those 
in the Massachusetts Insane Asylum were crazed by to- 
bacco. Just think of it, good people, ten times as many 
as there are in this town, doomed to live behind barred 
windows, with the screams of maniacs ringing in their 
ears, and haunted day and night with visions of horrid 
ghouls tagging after them, and clutching at their hearts. 
You make laws against man-stealing. Is it worse to 
steal the body than the brain ? You spend money build- 
ing school-houses, then give the boys poison to make 
them stupid. If you dinna’ watch you may g^ng ahint 
barred doors yoursels’. If you dinna’ watch and thraw 
your auld pipes away, when the angel o’ death cooms 
knockin’ at your door, and the angels o’ light an’ dark- 
ness coom hooverin’ down, eagerin’ for your souls, your 
brains will be so clouded wi’ smoke, you will mistake 
auld Satan himself for the angel Gabriel.” 

There was a moment’s silence, then, as she turned to 
leave the platform, there was a burst of cheering. The 
people had feared a blundering failure from the little 
frontier girl, and they were surprised. 

With more than his usual haughty mein, Cyrus stepped 

6o 


ANOTHER COEElisT 


to the front. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “I am 
sorry that oiir opponents have descended from their ex- 
alted pedestal of delicate womanhood, on which they 
were placed by the love and respect of manhood, to the 
low plane of the fanatic and the Amazon. What right 
have, they to. dominate over man? Superior to them in 
reasoning powers, superior to them in worldly experience, 
it is his ; supreme right to decide what may, or may not, 
be his. habits. No true lady will dictate to man in mat- 
ters outside of her sphere. If she keeps within that 
sphere, she is a truly lovable being. Such beings the 
ladies have been who are our opponents tonight, but they 
have fallen into evil company. They have read the writ- 
ings of a few theorizing fanatics, who imagine they can 
turn the world upside down with crack-brained notions. 
But, in practical life, the common sense of man decides 
what is best. Most of the, physicians of my acquaintance 
use tobacco themselves. They know its value as a harm- 
less stin^ulant — else they would throw it away, and warn 
us of dhf danger, were it so injurious as these ladies 
think. As my colleague has told you, it is a sedative to a 
tired or "nervous man, and the ladies would find, to their 
sorrow that, without it, we would not be so good-natured. 
The world is not aware how much it owes to wine and 
tobaccojor some, of its best literary work. Poe’s Raven 
was written under the inspiration of wine. * While there 
may be danger fj*om wine to those who are weak-willed, 
there is no -such danger from tobacco. Many of our best 
writers light their cigars when they sit down at their 
literary emplovments. Admitting, for argument’s sake, 
that its excessive use does produce some diseases, whose 
business is it but our own, if we are willing to suffer a 
little disease for the pleasure the habit gives us? Shall 
we let meddlesome fanatics dictate what we ought, or 
ought not, to do ? Would you again force upon us sump- 

61 


COFFIN NAII.S : THF story of jane M^GRECofi 

tuary laws? They were the enactments of tyrants, the 
relics of a superstitious age, when men were supposed to 
be children, incapable of self-government. The Bible tells 
us that when God finished the work of creation, he pro- 
nounced it good, and tobacco was.one of the things cre- 
ated. What do these young ladies know about this 
matter? Shall we let their pretty theories offset the 
facts learned by years of experience? I say emphati- 
cally, we ought not to have a law prohibiting the use of 
tobacco. Our citizens are capable of regulating their 
habits by their own common sense.” 

The applause was deafening, for the smokers felt vin- 
dicated. Just as they adjourned for recess, a large man 
entered, wrapped up, head and ears. 

“Oh ! Josiah’s back again,” cried Zina. 


CHAPTER VII. 

The Mystery Explained. 


I ’M awfully proud to see your faces again. Did you 
all think I was buried in a sepulcher?” said Josiah, 
shaking hands, 

“We thought,” replied Minnie, “you might be buried 
in a snow-drift.” 

“I had hardly missed you,” said Elsie, “there were 
so many gone since the storm.” 

“How are you, Josiah? Glad to see you have dug 
through the snow-drifts at last,” said Prof. King, com- 
ing up just then. 


62 


THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED 

“rm awful glad to get back in this old Seminary alive 
again. Them schemin’ rascals mighty near deprivated 
me of life.” 

*"Do not talk so loudly. What is it? Has some ac- 
cident happened?” 

“Just come down to your office, Professor, Pve got the 
out landishest yarn to tell you of my terrific experiences, 
that will make the hair stand, like bristles, on that head 
of yourn.” 

“All right, after the society adjourns. Take off your 
wraps and be seated, till they are through with the pro- 
gram.” 

The society was called to order, after recess, and Nellie 
all atremble, began : “Ladies and gentlemen, my friends 
have told you of the wastefulness and injuriousness of 
this pernicious habit. It is also immoral, because it 
makes men selfish. They will smoke and spit, no matter 
how sick or uncomfortable it makes those who must 
endure it. Even those who try to be Christians spend 
nine times as much for tobacco, as they spend to send 
the glorious gospel to the poor benighted heathen. The 
use of tobacco often becomes idolatry. Many a profess- 
ing Christian loves his t( bacco better than he loves his 
Creator. The Bible says: “Ye are the temple of God. 
If any man defile the temple of God, him shall God 
destroy;” and: “Let us cleanse ourselves from all fil- 
thines.*: of ffie flesh.” 

“The tobacco habit is also immoral because it is a 
recruiting station for the great army of intemperance. 
When a boy begins to run with a smoking crowd, the 
next thing you know he has followed them into a saloon, 
and how long will it be till he learns to drink? Prison 
officials have stated that ninety-seven per cent of male 
criminals began with tobacco, and that, almost without 
exception, forgers, defaulters and swindlers use tobacco, 

63 


COFI'IN NAII.S: the: story ot jane; m^’gregor 

thus showing the deadening influence of tobacco on the 
moral nature of the user. 

“1 he noted Dr. Brown said: ‘The use of tobaccQ 
pioduces a dryness and huskiness of the mouth, thus 
creating a thirst which, in many instances, is not sat- 
isfied with anything short of alcoholic drinks.’ Dr. 
McAllister says: ‘Innumerable instances will be found 
where drunkenness follows as the legitimate consequence 
of using tobacco.’ The well known Dr. Gunn said : ‘My 
candid opinion is that the use of tobacco is the greatest 
obstacle existing to the progress o£ temperance. With 
very few exceptions, every drunkard is, ,a tobacco user.’ 
Men who want to give up drink have to give up smok- 
ing at the same time, for they say that a pipe or cigar 
generally excites a desire for liquor in an old drinker, 
very hard to control. A number of years ago over 
seven hundred drunkards joined the Washingtonians, 
in Baltimore. All backslid except the sixty-three who 
gave up tobacco at the same time. Can you make the 
plausible excuse that there is no harm in tobacco? Think 
of all the weeping wives of miserable drunkards ; ihink 
of all the poor suffering children of drunken fathers- 
and ask yourselves if you are willing to throw yonr in- 
fluence on the side of intemperance? Will you, by your 
filthy practice, block the wheels of the great temperance 
reform which is rolling on to victory in the glorious 
work of saving fallen man from earthly misery and eter- 
nal perdition ?” 

A storm of applause followed, prompted either by 
her eloquence, or by love for the warm-hearted girl. 

George Winthrop next stepped to the front. “Mr. 
President, ladies and gentlemen, and most honorable 
judges,” he began, with a flourishing bow, “I, have the 
delightful honor to appear in the presence of this re- 
spectable audience* to defend the inalienable rights of 

. 64 


the: mystery Explained 

my countrymen in the land of the free and the home of 
the brave. 

Our beautiful opponent has attempted to demonstrate 
that this harmless habit is selfish and irreligious. Even 
admitting her assertions, this is a land of religious lib- 
erty. It would be the height of intolerance to pass a 
law to regulate a man’s religious duties. I speak in the 
name of liberty, which is dearer than life to every Amer- 
ican citizen. What right has any law-maker to dictate 
to me, a loyal citizen of this great country, what I shall 
or shall not eat, drink, chew or smoke? That would 
destroy our personal liberty, and it is one of the privi- 
leges in which we glory. Any free-born American has 
a perfect right to exhale the perfumes of a cigar, or per- 
meate the air with the redolence of a meerschaum. These 
ladies who arc decrying tobacco should remember that 
the Indians, who used it long before the white man set 
foot on this continent, were the healthiest people who 
ever walked this green earth, and, doubtless it was owing 
to the use of this invigorating plant. I admit that some 
may iise it to excess, but where is anything capable of 
nourishing the human body that is not in danger of being 
used to excess? A man may even eat enough of the 
staff of life to produce illness. Must we, therefore, suffer 
the horrors of starvation? Must we, therefore, be pro- 
hibited the moderate use of a luxury, because some old 
smoker brings on fatal disease by everlastingly puffing 
his old pipe? We must learn to be temperate in all 
things. The ladies have called tobacco a poison, but it 
must be a very mild poison. Therefore, ladies and gei>-^ 
tlenien, I presume you are convinced that it is not nec^ 
essary for this great government to pass laws to govern 
the private habits of its free-born citizens.” 

This was greeted with the vociferous applause 
ally accorded to anything patriotic* 

65 


COI^FIN NAILS : thl story or JANR m^grrgor 

‘*As usual,” said the president, “the affirmative has the 
closing speech, which will be made by Miss McGregor.” 

“Kind friends,” she began, “but two arguments were 
given by the first speaker on the negative. He said that 
taxes were lightened by the tobacco revenue. But it is 
paid in added cost by poor men who use it. His other 
argument was answered by my colleague. The second 
speaker said that tobacco killed lice on calves. But let 
him have a care lest it kill the calf too, as one of our 
neighbors did. He said it was a disinfectant. Why not 
eat onions, and wear asafetida all the time? They are 
both better disinfectants than tobacco, and not half so 
filthy. The doctors tell us that when cholera or plague 
are about, the tobacco users catch them first, and have 
them the worst. When the cholera came years ago, it 
was most fatal in the two worst smoking cities in Amer- 
ica, Matanzas and Havana. It killed one-seventh of the 
people of Havana, and one-eigth of the people of Ma- 
tanzas. He said it was soothing and restful. No doubt 
it is. The nerves are the telegraph wires that fetch news 
to the brain. Smoking does not rest you, but benumbs 
the nerves, so they can-na’ tell the brain when the body’s 
tired or in pain. His fourth argument : that it was a 
help to study, was like that of the first speaker tonight, 
who claimed that the greatest books and poems were 
written with the aid of wine or tobacco. I always 
thought Poe’s ‘Raven’ sounded like delirium tremens. 
I read the ‘Confession of an Old Smoker.’ He told us 
that at first smoking was a help to study, but he found 
at last it had weakened his mind. The fifth argument 
that many smokers live to old age, sounds fair ; but does 
war never hurt anybody because some soldiers live 
through it ? A noted doctor said : ‘Every tobacco user, 
no matter how long he lives, might have lived ten years 
longer if he had not used it.’ The truth is some men 


'The: mystery ^xpi.ained 


have stronger constitutions to begin with, than others, 
and it takes more poison to kill them. And men of strong 
constitutions have strong wills, and are able to stint 
themselves. The faster you run an engine, the quicker 
it wears out, but, if it clogs with ashes, it will stop right 
away. You can na’ clean the ashes of tobacco oot of 
your brains and lungs. You din na’ know how soon they 
might clog. The first speaker tonight said that some 
doctors use tobacco. So do some doctors get drunk. 
They learned the bad habit when they were young, and 
it stupified their will power, so they think they can’t quit ; 
and they fear to tell others that it is wrong, lest some 
one say : ‘Physician, heal thyself.’ His next argument 
about the creation of tobacco, proves too much. God 
created wolves and said they were good. And he said: 
‘Every living thing that moveth shall be" meat for you.’ 
Why doesn’t my opponent turn the wolves in his sheep 
pen, and eat the skunks, and make a warm nest for the 
snakes in his bed ? I admit that tobacco is useful to kill 
lice and snakes. The Hottentots dip the end of a long 
stick in tobacco juice, and, when they find a snake, they 
punch him, and make him bite the stick, and he is soon 
dead.. A white man, out in Kansas, was chased by the 
Indians, and hid in the grass. He heard a rattlesnake 
close to him, but he was afraid to jump up, for the In- 
dians were in sight, so he squirted some tobacco juice in 
the snake’s mouth, and it straightened right out and 
died. Maybe it was lucky he used tobacco that time, biit 
he concluded that if it would kill a snake so quickly, it 
was too poison for him, and he quit using it. The gen- 
tleman claims the right of injuring himself. No man has 
a right to do that which leads others to do wrong, nor to 
poison the air that others breathe, nor to shorten his life, 
nor weaken his strength, because others have a right to 
his care. 


^ 7 . 


COFnN NA1I,S : I'HE STORY OR JANK MCGREGOR 

“As to the last speech, it was thin gruel, ‘poor feedin’, 
an’ not very tasty.’ His spread eagle oratory was not to 
the point. His one argument was that the Indians were 
made strong by tobacco. The Spaniards found the In- 
dians of Central America smoking tobacco, and said that 
some of them, especially their medicine men, often smoked 
around their campfires till they fell down as if dead. But 
the North American Indians were so awed by its strange 
effects that they held tobacco sacred to the Great Spirit, 
only smoking it at solemn pow-wows, and thought the 
smoke went up as incense to the Great Spirit. The mod- 
ern Indians use tobacco like the whites, but if he thinks 
they are so healthy, he ought to live as near them as I 
have. What more can we say ? We have proved that to- 
bacco is a poison ; that it costs enough to bread the world ; 
that it leads thousands to drink ; and that it causes sick- 
ness, insanity and death. Is not suicide murder? Is it 
not as much murder to kill by slow poison as by bullets ? 
It is right to make laws to keep men from poisoning 
themselves and their children. And mark my words : if 
you dinna’ quit, you will rue the day you touched the poi- 
son. ‘They have sown the wind, they shall reap the whirl- 
wind.’ ” Her voice had risen as she spoke, but now she 
said, very quietly, “Sit still and see what you will see.” 
Stepping to the back of the platform, she opened a box 
and took out a cat. It was Mrs. Mallows’ stray kitten. 
“This kitten,” she said, “ has been doomed to die afore 
tomorrow night. If it must die, its pain shall teach a 
lesson. Taking from the table drawer an old pipe, and a 
knife, she scraped some soot out of the inside of the pipe 
and put it on the cat’s tongue, and set it down on the plat- 
form. Some one laughed, thinking it a joke, but she said 
warningly : “Hush ! Watch and see.!” Presently the 
kitten began to act strangely, as if in pain. Suddenly it 
began to leap, and throw itself wildly about. 

68 i 


THE) myste:ry E:xPI,AINE:d 

“Oh! It has a fit!” cried Minnie. “Run, Jane, or it 
will hurt you.'' And there was a confused buzz of voices. 
But Jane stood her ground, raising a warning finger. In 
five minutes more it was dead. 

“Poor kitty, you did not suffer long," she said.. “My 
fiiends, that cat was killed by the poison out of an old 
pipe. One of the gentlemen said that if tobacco was 
a poison it must be a very mild one. Ask that poor kitten 
if it was a mild poison.” She turned and took her seat, 
and there was a burst of applause. 

The judges rendered a decision in favor of the affirma- 
tive, and the people crowded around the girls, congratu- 
lating them on their success. Several old smokers de- 
clared they had smoked their last pipe. There was the 
usual confusion, but, above the buzz of voices, were heard 
the words, “They’ve found the cofhn in the graveyard;” 
and an excited throng gathered around the speaker, to 
hear the news. Some one had returned to the cemetery 
with the boys, and found the stolen coffin, and the story 
caused much excitement. 

“Sure enough,” said Elsie, “Josiah’s taking Prof. King 
down to the office.” 

“Oh, my!” exclaimed Sallie, “Henry's going home 
with Flossie again. Now Nellie will be jealous.” 

“I wouldna’ be jealous of anybody,” retorted Jane. 
“Jealously is pure selfishness. If Henry cares more for 
lis cigar than he does for Nellie, the feckless lout might 
gang his ain’ gait.” 

As the crowd passed Prof. King’s office door Josiah’s 
loud voice could be heard talking excitedlv. Scverril 
boys and girls lingered in the corridor, to hea-* v;hat 
thev could. They heard Prof. King say: “Tell me 
what thev did to you. How came vou at the building? 
I til ought you left on the train Fridav evening.” 

“I got a letter from a feller what said to meet him at 


M'gr^gor 

nine o’clock in room seven, i comes, and. waits till I 
heard a knock, i opened the door, and it Wu**^ kind oi 
dark in the hallway, but i glimpsed a lo<- o: Ici.ers m 
])lack masquerades, and it looked like the htii<l 'Jiies was 
carryin’ a black coffin. Afore I cotched on to the mys- 
tihcation, one feller slapped a rag ov* r my eyes, and 
another stuffed one in my mouth. Then Ikey bound my 
hands and feet with manakins, an’ crammed me in that 
there coffin, and nailed the lid down. 1 had been a 
thinkin’ it was some fool joke, but when 1 heard them 
nailin' me fast, i knew they was a persecutin’ me fw 
righteousness sake. And then they marched me down 
stairs, and tramped along, bumpin’ me around, till J 
heard the wind a howdin’ through evergreen trees, and 
knew we'd got to the cemetery. 1 tell you what, I tried 
to holler, but that rag in my throat was that tight J 
couldn’t hardly get my breath. Then they banged the 
cohm down, an’ I heard 'em rattlin' spades, an’ one feller 
was screwin’ and poundin’ the lid, an’ another feller said : 

‘Nail it down tight, Joe, so Gabriel can’t open it.' Land 
sakes! It was just awful! Just then one says: ‘Hark! 
Somebody’s coming,' an’ you oughter heard them fellers 
run. Yes siree, just left me there to smother an’ freeze 
to death. I tell you what, it was terrific! I jest kicked 
and thrashed 'round thar, with my feet manakined to- 
gether. and busted that lid to pieces, an’ rolled out o’ 
thar, an’ busted' them manakins off mv liands- an’ feet, 
an' pulled them rags out o’ my mouth an’ eyes, an’ theti 
I jest skedaddled, an' run till I was mightv nigh dov;n t( 
the tank, so T just jumped on the train down thar.’’ 

“That was quite an escapade,” remarked Prof. King. 

“I should say it was an escape. I barely escaped with 
m}- life.” 

“They did not injure you, did they?” asked Prof.King. 

‘^Injure me! Tf you was smotherin’ alive in a coffin, 


and iniagatiii' ^uu heaiti the sods a failin’ on your cpfliU- 
.-d, and how ^‘ou'd be obligated to lie there a starvin’ 
•till you died by inches, reckon your feelins’ would be in 
jured. it's the most outrageous proceedings that ever 
disgraced a civilized country.” 

"Why do you think the students did it?” 

"Cause nobody else would have took on theirselves the 
liberty to do such scandalous proceedings in the Sem- 
inary,” 

‘‘But if it was students, they did it for a joke.” 

"You wouldn’t have thought it a joke lyin’ in that 
coffin, weepin’ over your own funeral. I didn’t want to 
come back after endurin’ such persecutions, but mother 
said I should come back, and get justification done me.” 

The listening students scattered the story, and people 
became exciteva. Prof. King was inclined to let it pass 
as a harmless joke, but the undertaker threa^^ned suit 
if the thieves were not punished. The school had never 
before been disgraced by a hazing, and the Seminary 
Board dicided to mete out such punishment that it would 
not be repeated. Josiah testified that he heard the clock 
strike ten before they left the Seminary, and that he 
heard one person call another one “Joe,” and he thought 
Liie voice was Henry Carson’s. But the ticket agent tes- 
tified that Henry took the ten o’clock train. Zina had 
confided to a schoolmate, as a great secret, the story ot 


the coffin in the' attic, but it traveled, as secrets will, and 
the girls had to testify as to what they had seen. The 
boys refused to plead guilty, but Joe Blazer (who was 
the only Joe in school), and another boy from the city, 
were expelled. 

The excitement over the hazing did not obliterate the 
effects of the debate. A number of men threw away 
their tobacco. Partly because of the arguments, and 
partly because they cared more for the girls than the 


71 


comN NAiivS: the: story ot jane; m’gre:gor 

weed, some of the boys quit smoking. George was the 
first to turn over a new leaf, much to Minnie s satisfac- 
tion. Prof. King, though he did not smoke himself, was 
conservative, but Prof, uelton and Miss Miller used theii 
influence strongly against intemperance and tobacco. At 
length Henry, after the expulsion of his city chums, 
yielded to surrounding influences, and quit smoking, and 
was soon reinstated m Nellie’s favor. But Cyrus, and 
several others stubbornly clung to their cigars, and were 
upheld in it by Irene, Flossy and Mattie Dorson. 

One evening Lucy was walking down street, when Dr. 
Hawley overtook her, and congratulated her and her 
friends on their success. She thanked him and remarked 
that more good could be done if physicians were more 
decided against the evil, for she knew that Dr. Hawley 
did not use tobacco. 

'‘Dr. Grimes was educated in the days when bleeding 
and tobacco were considered useful remedies,” he re- 
plied. “He uses tobacco himself and thinks that while 
it injures some, it agrees with others. If I oppose it, he 
will ridicule me, and starve me out. Mr. Darnell, the 
carpenter, has just had a stroke of paralysis which \ 
think was largely caused by tobacco, but Dr. Grimes, 
who is their physician, will not believe it.” 

“That is sad. Is paralysis always caused by tobacco?" 

“No, there are several other causes. But that is one 
of the most frequent. I have known several cases among 
women, where their fathers were tobacco sots.” 


‘ 72 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Love Under Dieficueties. 


T he dreaded examination week of the winter term 
was over, and a crowd of students came down the 
walk. Sallie exclaimed : 

“Oh goody! The old finals are over with, and Zina 
asked eagerly : 

“Got your grade card? I got mine, got above eighty, 
aint that fine?” 

“I heard Miss Miller say she thought Jane would 
have a hundred in nearly every study,” remarked Minnie. 

“If that red-head gets a hundred in algebra, I know 
the teachers are partial,” snapped Mattie Dorson. 

“Humph! You could most see the envy sticking out 
of that remark,” returned George. 

“Oh George, you ought not to have said that, I fear 
it hurt Mattie’s feelings,” said Minnie, gently, after 
Mattie had passed on. 

“Sorry for it. Puss, for your sake; but she holds her 
head so high I like to see her toss it.” 

“Didn’t Henry make a big splurge at society Wednes- 
day night?” asked Sallie. 

“Yes, and Cyrus, too,” said Irene, “if good oratory 
is what you call a splurge.” 

“Course you think so. I caught Cyrus hunting big 
words in the dictionary. He wrote his speech in common 
words, then hunted big words in their place, so he did,” 
retorted Sallie. 

“Don’t have a cat-fight over it,” said George. “They 


73 


coi^i^iN NAII.S: tup: story or janr m'grrgor 

both made a big splurge. Two Daniel Websters on 
hands already, what will we have when I come on the 
stage ?” 

b'rom the time Sally hinted about the gold mine, Tucy 
had been annoyed by Josiah's attentions for he had never 
asked if they were agreeable. She had hinted in various 
ways that his company was not wanted, hurrying on 
early, waiting late, and avoiding him, both at home 
and at school, l)ut all in vain. At length she told him 
that she disliked him, and that his attentions were an- 
noying. 

“You are jest joking,” he replied, with a laugh. 

“No, sir, 1 am in earnest, and you are no gentleman, 
annoying me this way.” 

At that he suddenly l)ecame angry, and Arthur said 
he went upstairs, muttering something about a mean 
flirt, and he would hate her as long as she lived, and 
dance on her grave after she was dead. She thought 
herself well rid of him, but, in a week, he sidled around, 
telling how sorrv lie was for his anger, and how he 
would obey the Bible, and “Love them that despitefully 
use you.” 

Lucy kept closely with the other girls, refusing to 
sneak to him, but he walked behind, and talked to her, 
though she never replied. One morning she remained 
in her room until Arthur and the girls had been gone 
some time. Finally she saw Josiah walking up the street, 
and thinking the way clear, she started ; but, at the first 
corner, he stepped from behind a lilac bush, and walked 
on with her. When they reached Mrs. Clark’s gate 
Lucy suddenly turned in there, without a word, and Jo- 
siah stopped and waited. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Nellie, seeing Lucy’s 
worried look. 


74 


I,OVK UNDER DIEEICUUTIES 


“Oh, that nuisance!” replied Lucy, pointing back over 
her shoulder. 

“I told you to come on with us, so I did,” said Sallie, 
as she saw Josiah at the gate, for she and Jane had 
stopped to wait for the girls. 

‘‘Where is your mother, Elsie? I would like to speak 
to her,” and Elsie stepped to the kitchen to call her 
mother. 

“What’s come of Laura?” asked Sallie. 

“She’s upstairs, primping,” replied Nellie. 

“Let’s go, we will be tardy,” urged Jane. 

“No danger, Laura is too anxious to please Prof. 
King,” answered Nellie. 

“She’s just setting her cap for him, so she is,” said 
Sallie, but no one replied. 

“Aunty Clark, can' you take another boarder?” asked 
Lucy, when that good lady came in. 

“Possibly we could, this warm weather, though our 
rofuns are about full. Who is it?” 

“Myself. I want to get in, under your wings.” 

“Haven’t you a good place at Mrs. Mallows?” 

“Yes, only Josiah is such a bore. Mrs. Mallows 
thinks he is perfect, and I fear she encourages his at- 
tentions to me. If you could only crowd me in some- 
where till school is out.” 

“Yes, come on tomorrow, and I will forbid his coming 
here.” 

“Josiah’s standing there yet,” exclaimed Sallie, when 
Laura came down. 

“I have a mind to stay here,” said Lucy. 

“Let’s slip out the back way,” suggested Elsie, and 
so they did. When they reached the seminary, they 
looked back, and he was still at the gate. 

The girls were going one evening to pick wild straw- 
berries, but Mary did not go. She was a Senior, and 

7S 


COFFIN NAILS : The story of JANF MCGREGOR 

had to sit upstairs and study for the finals. Sallie called 
for Bennie to go with her. but was told that he was at 
the store. “I reckon I oughtn’t to have sent Bennie to 
the store when his pap’s gone,” said Mrs. Mallows. ‘‘I 
told him to come right back, but them clerks is jest 
keepin’ him to have fun out of him.” An hour passed, 
when a clerk came, carrying Bfennie. 

“Mercy sakes! What ails him? Is my boy sick, or 
hurt ?” 

“I guess we let him eat too much candy,” he ans- 
wered, laying the child in his mother’s arms, and hur- 
rying off. 

“Bennie! Bennie! Mother’s pet! what ails you? 
Can’t ycu speak to mother? Mary! Mary!” 

Mary had overheard, and was down already. 

“Mercy on me! I am afeared my baby’ll die! Run 
for Dr. G *imes ! That sneaken clerk run off before I 
even thought to send him for the doctor. He felt guilty, 
that’s why he run. Catch me lettin’ my precious boy 
go down there again when his pap’s gone.” Before 
her tongue stopped rattling, Mary had started, met Ar- 
thur, and sent him for the doctor, and was back, ready 
to help, Bennie was a very sick looking child, his face 
white, his lips blue, his eyes closed, and his hands cold. 
Mary wrapped him in warm blankets, and put his icy 
feet in hot water, and he revived a little, but he was 
deathly sick. 

“Oh! Mary, he’s dying!” and the head fell back, limp 
over her arm. Mary saw the muscles twitch, and, taking 
him from his mother, turned away, that she might not 
see the terrible spasm that contorted the little face. 

The spasm passed, and he lay, limp and white in 
Mary’s arms, when the doctor came. 

“It looks like a case of poisoning. What has he eaten/’ 
asked the doctor. 


IvOVE: under DIEEICUUTIES 

‘‘Them good-for-nothing clerks fed him candy.” 

“O that’s it, is it? We'll soon have him all right.” 
But it was not so easy a task as he thought. Bennie fin- 
ally recovered, but it was days before he was able to get 
out doors. And several times that spring he had similar 
spasms though none quite so severe. His father had 
forbidden the clerks giving him candy, and sometimes 
the spasms occurred when he had not been away from 
the house. 

One warm Sunday evening Aunty Clark and her 
crowd had all gone to church, except Lucy, who had a 
headache. She sat down on the porch, hoping the cool 
air would help her, and watched the fading sunset tints. 
Hearing a cautious step, she looked around, to see 
Josiah seating himself on the steps. 

“I fancified to stay away from church tonight,” said 
he, and I am rejoiced that you took a similar notion,” 
Lucy sprang up, hurried into the sitting-room, and shut 
the door. The key was out, and she stepped to the nail 
to get it, but before she could turn, Josiah walked in, 
and seated himself near the door. She lighted a lamp, 
saying: Mr. Jenkins, I do not wish your company, will 
you please go away?” and she seated herself in the far- 
ther corner, and picked up a book. 

“Miss Lucy, some things is of vaster importance than 
books or church. The supremest time of my life is 
presenting itself. We was created for affinities. We 
both have high speculations to be mightily useful to our 
grand country. You never can have comprehension of 
the grandiloquent load of love that mighty nigh bursts 
my tender heart. Miss Lucy, will you be my beloved 
bride?” 

“No, siiv I will not,” she answered curtly. For a mo- 
ment he looked startled, then he smiled blandly. “Miss 


77 , 


COFFIN NAIFS: TIIF STORY OF JANF m'GRFGOR 

Lucy, hain’t this coquetry lasted long enough? Say 
something that will fill my heart with ecstatics,” 

“Josiah Jenkins, I hate youL and she sprang inside 
the door of Mrs. Clark’s room — for she remembered 
there was a catch inside^ — and locked it. 

‘‘What makes you contradict your own happiness? 
You realization that you love me,’’ he yelled through the 
closed door. 

“I told you I hated you, and I mean it. Now clear 
out !” 

“Miss Lucy, you’ll be regretful to the longest day 
you live, if you don’t mari*}^ me. I ain’t no common 
farmer. I ain’t goin’ to work for my livin’. I have am- 
bitions to be a celebrated man some day. I’ll be bigger 
’n George Washington. He wa’n’t nothin’ but a farmer 
no how. Anybody could sit up thar in that White 
House, an’ shake hands with folks, but my ambition 
soars a grand sight loftier’n that. I’m goin’ to be a re- 
former, an’ have a magic lantern, an’ make the grandest 
speeches ’ bout them tremenjous evils, gettin’ drunk, an’ 
Hie like, an’ show the grandest picters: on the wall, about 
drunkards’ children, an’ snakes an’ the like, what them 
tremens fellers has in their boots, an’ make folks cheer, 
an’ cry like they’d rubbed their eyes with onions. Don’t 
your heart soar aloft to be the wife of a great man like 
that?” But she made no answer. 

“Say, Miss Lucy,” he yelled, loud enough for the 
neighbors to hear, “what objection have you gol? I’m 
a Christian young man, without any bad habits. Why 
won’t you have me?” 

“Because you’re a simpleton. You haven’t sense 
enough to hoe corn. Nobody hut a blockhead would sir 
there and yell at a girl through a keyhole.” 

He rose so suddenly that his chair fell over, and stalk- 
ed out, and down the street. But she knew he would re- 

78 


A woman's story 


pent of his anger in a week or two. When the folks 
reached home, tender-hearted Aunty Clark saw traces of 
tears, and soon learned her story. She threatened to 
have Josiah arrested for trespassing. The girls told it 
in his hearing, next morning, and he left Eudora that 
very day, never to return. 


CHAPTER IX. 


A Woman's Story. 


C ommencement was over. A11 the dread ex- 
aminations, all the glee and excitement, all the 
bustle of packing were past. Henry, Arthur, 
Mary, and others, had received their diplomas, and their 
admonitions to accomplish something worthy of their 
Alma Mater. Some of the students went home with 
their parents, and some took the train, amid waving of 
handkerchiefs and promises to write. Jane rode home 
with cousin John, for she was to spend the summer at 
Uncle Hugh’s, instead of going to her far away home. 

Cousin John and his wife and children came over to 
spend the evening. After they left. Aunt Hannah took 
Jane up to her chamber. 

“How cosy you have fixed this room for me. You 
are just like mother. Aunt Hannah, always doing some- 
thing to hearten folks up. It made me homesick to see 
the other girls go home. I wish I could see father and 
mother and the bairnies." 


79 


COFFIN nails: thf story of janf m^'grkgor 

Aunt Hannah put the light on the table, and sat down 
in the little rocker, for something in Jane’s voice sound- 
ed as if there was a lump in her throat. 

“Yea, it would do thee good to see them, but we are 
lonely, with our boys gone, and are glad to have thee for 
company,” Aunt Hannah answered, stroking Jane’s hair. 

“I did want to go home so much, but father wrote 
about the low price of stock, and it is a far distance, 
and costs a fell price to go on the cars, and he feared I 
couldna' coom back the winter, if I went home, and he 
speired if I couldna’ be brave and stay with you.” 

“And thee will have a happy time, I hope, and will 
seem like a daughter to me.” 

“Mayhap I ought to have gone home to stay, for I 
know how mother will skimp and save to eke oot enough 
to keep me here another year.” 

“They will be proud of thee, if thee does thy work 
well. I am glad thee appreciates thy mother’s self-de- 
nial. So many children are ungrateful for the toil and 
sacrifice that their advantages cost their parents.” 

“I have taken studies ahead, and next year I will 
finish two years in one, and graduate.” 

“Thee must not study too hard,” 

“Dinna’ you fear. Father and mother dinna’ dream 
I can do it. They will be fair carried with surprise when 
they see my diploma ; and. Aunt Hannah, you must not 
tell them aforetime.” 

Then Aunt -Hannah talked of the children, and the 
flower garden, to divert her thoughts. 

“Aunt Hannah,” Jane spoke up in one of her aunt’s 
pauses, ’’why do you say ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ ?” 

“I belong to the Friends’ meeting, and my parents 
taught me that way, because it is the Friends’ custom.” 

“And why dinna’ Uncle Hugh speak Scotch, like 
father ?” 


A WOMAN^S story 


“Thy uncle ran away to sea when he was a boy, and 
the Yankee captain with whom he shipped soon quit the 
sea, and took thy uncle home with him to his New Eng- 
land farm. Thy father remained in Scotland till he 
was a man.” 

“To be sure! And Uncle Hugh forgot his Scotch. I 
canna’ forget mine in a minute.” After a little more 
chat, Aunt Hannah bade Jane a loving good night, and 
she was soon fast asleep. 

“Come, Puss, be you a city lady? or be you a country 
girl?” aroused her next morning. She looked around. 
It was daylight, and it was Aunt Hannah’s room, and 
that was Uncle Hugh’s voice, saying: “Time country 
girls was up. I thought you wanted to help me drive 
the sheep to pasture.” 

“To be sure! I will be there presently.” Soon she 
was out at the lot, ready to go, and found Uncle Hugh 
mending fence. 

“You’re spry as a cricket, but I must mend this bar 
the critters broke, a rubbin’ against it. A nail in lime 
saves ’bout as much as a ‘stitch in time,’ and ‘Small leaks 
the bars, and the sheep hopped over, one after the other, 
sink big ships.’ Now we’re ready.” And he ht down 
As they passed the horse lot, the colts put their heads 
over the bars with an eager whinny, and Uncle Hugh 
stopped to pat them, and tell Jane their names. 

“No doubt you’ll let me break one of them to ride. It 
is lang since I went skelpin’ o’er the prairies on my 
pony.” 

“Break you neck, more like. Old Lucy would suit 
you better, ’cordin’ to my notion.” 

“She’s not kittle enough. Wouldn’t we go skelpin’ 
over these hills^ Don?” 

“Howsomever, the sheep’s all scatterin’ every which 


8i 




the: story or jane 


Y^ay while we’re putterin’ here. We’ll sa!f colts 
when we come back.” 

“What makes your horses like you so wcff?” 

“I don’t forget that critters has rights, an’ if I can’t 
get along with ’em without heatin’ them, we just dis- 
solve partnership.” 

“It’s heartening to see the bonnie lambs,” exclaimed 
Jane, as they skipped back and forth across the lane. 
“They’re gaysome the marning. Why are the old sheep 
so sober? They dinna’ work to get tired.” 

“Wall, now, I don’t know why critters like sheep an* 
cows, that never work, grow old and sober. Jest nature, 
I guess, cause lambs and children be always frisky. May- 
be they get stiff with rheumatism, same as old folks. But 
it limbers Up my old bones to see the lambs an’ colts a 
friskin’ round, an’ to hear them happy little birds a 
singin’.” 

“The birds are blythe with music the morning. Hark 
to that wee dawtie in the apple-tree. He sings like his 
heart was fair lifted.” 

“Yes, the robins always do sing lively in the early 
morning.” 

“Is that a robin?” 

“Wall, I declare! Don’t you have no birds out where 
you live?” 

“To be sure, many a one, but no robins. Mother said 
she heard one last summer, and it made her homesick. 
And father said : T’ve noted how the bee hies just afore 


the white man, an’ the robin just ahint him.’ ” 

“Yes, the 'robins stay close to the house an’ orchard. 
Some folks shoots ’em, cause they say ‘Them thievin’ 
robins steals all our cherries,’ but I won't let any body 
shoot ours. I wonder sometimes if the robins that has 
been cleanin’ bugs and worms out of the trees all spring 


A WOMAN^S StORV 

don’t say, ‘O those thievin’ men, stealin’ onr cherries 
that we worked so hard for.’ ” 

Jane. laughed merrily. 

’Spose you know what crows are,” 

“To be sure! But I dinna’ like them, the3 ^ 
self.” 

“YouTe about right, they say: ‘Get all you can, an’ 
keep all you get.’ But they’re sharp as chisels, crows 
are, they see every strange thing. They know you’re 
strange, that’s why they’re cawin’ so loud. Some folks 
says they mean bad luck, but I don’t go much on signs. 
Work an’ gumption makes good luck, but some folks 
is that ’ fraid of work they run to meet bad luck, an’ 
haul it home in a wagon.” 

“Whey! Scamper oop there,” cried Jane, running 
back after some loitering sheep. As she ran up with 
them, she paused suddenly, as she saw Uncle Hugh 
squirt a mouthful of brown ambier on the ground. He 
had taken a chew; of tobacco, while she ran back, and his 
jaws were working like those of an old cow, chewing 
her cud. 

“Uncle Hugh! You dinna chew tobacco?” 

“Wall, yes, a little,” he answered, watching her face, 
which was the picture of astonishment and disgust. 

“Why dinna I kent it afore?” 

“Because I don’t chew in the house.” 

“Father hates tobacco. It cowes all that one of my ' 
kin could crooch so low down ! I’ve a mind to hide my 
head under a weed, like a quail. It’s muckle shameful ! 
You can gang alang by yourself,” and she turned, and 
went back to the house. 

“Got her father’s mettle,” mused Uncle Hugh, “and 
she walks just like mother, and she looks like her, too. 

I niiind mother hated tobacco. I am glad she never knew 
I used it.’’ 


83 


coi^^FiN NAiivS: the: story or jan^ m''gre:gor 

It was a warm summer evening. Uncle Hugh had 
gone to the city, and would not be home until late. Jane, 
who had helped with the chores, took the low seat on the 
porch, and watched the stars come out. Presently Aunt 
Hannah brought her chair, and sat down by her, say- 
ing: “Has thee found a cool place, dearie?” 

“A bit cooler than indoors, but it’s a close place here- 
about. If we only had a breath of our prairie winds. If 
I could fly like a bird, I would fly home tO' mother to- 
night,” said Jane, laying her head back in Aunt Han- 
nah’s lap. 

“Thee must not get homesick, dearie,” said Aunt Han- 
nah, stroking her hair. “Thee has soft fine hair, and so 
long and wavy.” 

“No doubt it’s all right, if it wasn’t red. I dinna’ 
mind my pug nose, but the boys tease me about my fiery 
red head.” 

“Do not fret thyself, if thee was altogether beautiful, 
thee might be vain.” 

“No doubt. Father said, Tf the nut is full of meat, 
folk dinna’ mind the hull.’ I’ll put so mooch wisdom in 
my head folk winna’ mind the red hair.” 

“That is a good plan. It is not the pretty women, but 
the wise and unselfish ones who have the most friends.” 

“I mean to be great, some day.” 

“Thee should not be over-anxious to be great. The 
great have sore trials and sore temptations. True great- 
ness is doing faithfully whatever work is given thee to 
do, 'though no one may know it but God. Yet, when one 
is faithful in little things, men are apt to heed it, and to 
say: “Come up higher.’ When a work comes to one, 
she learns to care so much for the work, that she forgets 
to care for the home. Thy first work is to strengthen 
thy mind by years of study. If the Lord has a work for 
thee, he will measure the burden to thy shoulders. Thee 


A WOMAN^S STORY 

must not only fill thy head with wisdom, but thy heart 
with kindness, and try to please others, and make them 
happy.” 

“I dinna’ like to please other folk. I like to do as I 
please. 1 think my way is best. Where’s the harm if 
I please to do right?” 

“Ah, little girlie, that is thy fault. Thee likes thine 
own way, and thee speaks thy mind too freely sometimes. 
Thee is naturally kind-hearted, but that sharp little 
tongue of thine is like a rasp. Thee should watch thy 
words lest they hurt people’s feelings.” 

“But it’s cooards who dinna’ say what they think,” 
and the red head was erect now. 

“Not always. When truth needs to be spoken, then it 
is brave to speak, but to be so blunt and thoughtless in 
little matters is selfishness.” Jane laid her head back 
again, thinking in silence. Aunt Hannah, with her calm 
manner, and gentle tones, wielded a strong influence over 
this impcLUOus girl. 

“I am glad that thee is brave to do what thee thinks 
is right ; and that thee has taken a bold stand against in-' 
temperance and tobacco. Thee may not seem to make 
much stir, but every little helps, and it means much to 
thy own life and character. And I am glad so many of 
thy mates have decided never to espouse drunkards, nor 
tobacco users. I would that all women could be firm in 
this matter. It would save many a woman’s life from 
chronic heartache. It is very galling to a self-respecting 
woman to know that her husband is a slave to a degrad- 
ing habit. But a sensitive, high spirited woman bears 
it in silence, for she usually loves her husband, in spite 
of his faults, and she can not bear to speak of the humil- 
iation which she feels so keenly.” 

“Aunt tiannah, I never want to get married.” 

“Better that thee never should, than to marry an un- 

85 


coKi'iN NAii,s: the: story or jane: m"gre:gor 

worthy man. Make thyself wise and self-reliant, and 
thee can he happy without marriage. But, if thee should 
ever love a man who' is pure in God’s sight, thee can be 
liappier. I do not see how a pure minded girl can love a 
man whose life is full of impurity, or whose breath is 
foul with liquor or tobacco. That was the way I felt 
about it.” 

“Why, Aunt Hannah! Did na’ you know that Uncle 
Hugh chewed tobacco?” 

“^^He did not use it when I married him.” 

“How came he to begin? Aunt Hannah, tell me all 
about it, and about when you were a girl, and how you 
came to marry him.” 

“Ah, child, I was a headstrong girl, and full of am- 
bition.” 

“You? Aunt Hannah?” 

“Yes, I longed for an education, and went away to 
college for awhile, but mother was frail, and 'when 
father fell and got crippled, I must needs stay at home 
and care for them. The Friends, even in those days, al- 
lowed their women to speak in meeting, when the Spirit 
moved them. I spoke much, and others loved to listen 
to me. I have thought since that I often mistook my 
own vain thoughts for the promptings of the Spirit. 
Some of the Friends were moved to go on missions to 
other states and countries, women as well as men, and I 
felt that the Spirit moved me to go on a mission to 
p; each the gospel of peace and temperance. Father and 
m.other grieved that I had been called to leave them, even 
fol* a time. But Aunt Ruth, a saintly, white-haired 
Friend, said gently to me: ‘Hannah,'! fear thee has 
mistaken thy desires for the moving of the Spirit. The 
Spirit moves me to tell thee that thy duty is to care for 
thy parents.’ And so I stayed with them, but, I grieve 
to say, not always contentedly. At length thy uncle 

86 


V A woman's story 

’ 

came, and we learned to love each other. He would have 
given my parents a home, but he did not belong to meet- 
ing, and father objected. So Hugh waited. The years 
went by, and at length mother was laid to rest, and 
father soon, followed her. We were married, out of 
meeting, and came west. \A^e had three children, and 
how we loved them, and how we worked to make them 
a home. Ah, those were happy days. But sorrow came. 
Little Judith, our precious baby girl, sickened and died. 
Those were sad, lonely days, but we had our little boys, 
and they were a great comfort.” Jane reached her hand 
up and patted Aunt Hannah’s cheek. Pres'ently she said : 
“But you havn t told me yet how Uncle Hugh came to 
use tobacco.” 

“He had a dreadful toothache, and the d^^ctor told 
him to use it. The country was new, and there were 
no dentists.” 

“Did it cure his toothache?” 

“It eased it for awhile, but it kept coming back, and 
requiring more tobacco, and then he chewed fo keep it 
from coming back. The stench was awful, but t thought 
it was only a temporary medicine, and said little, but kept 
as far from him as I*could. At length I urged him to 
stop, lest he form the habit of chewing. 

“I will stop when I get ready, and not before. Fact 
is, I ratlier like it and it’s none of your business.” 

“It was the first time he had ever spoken grossly to 
me, and my anger Idazed up like a flash, and I said hard 
and bitter tilings. He told me I was selfish to Wclnt him 
to give up something that was a pleasure lo him, and 
•that my anger v;as a greater sin than his using tobacco. 
And then he went off to his work. Of course, it w^as 
wrong to get angry, and I begged God to forgive me for 
that. But my fkeart was burning with shame, to think 
that my husband, of whom I had always felt proud, had 

87 


COI^I^IN NAII.S: the: story OT JANE MCGREGOR 

lowered himself to the level of a rowdy by such a filthy 
habit. If he had been brought home drunk, I could 
scarcely have felt worse disgraced. And, if he had been 
brought home dead, I know that I would not have suffer- 
ed as much as I have suffered in all these years by the 
realization of his degradation. To think that my hus- 
band loved a nasty weed better than he loved me, who 
had always felt so secure in his love. I knew that it was 
useless to say more to him, for Hugh is set in his ways. 
But to think that I, who had always looked down with 
pity — and almost with scorn — on women who married 
tipplers and "tobacco users, should have to come down to 
it myself, seemed more than I could bear. 

“That evening we did our work in silence, and Hugh 
went early to bed. It was the first thing that had ever 
c-^me between us. I lay down on the bed with the chil- 
dren, but not to sleep. John was six and Harry was four* 
My precious little boys ! Oh, how anxious I was for 
them to grow up pure and good. How could I teach 
them what was right, with their father setting them a 
wrong example? And I could not bear the thought of 
ever having them guilty of the disgusting habit. And 
so, hour after hour I brooded, until I determined to leave 
him, and take the children and go back to our old home. 
I arose and went about the house, gathering and packing 
in a trunk such things as I would need to take, for 
Hugh was a sound sleeper, and I had no fear of awak- 
ening him. I went to the chest where I kept little Ju- 
dith s keepsakes, and sat down and cried over them — 
they were the first tears I had shed— my heart had befin 
^r.o bitter for tears. I must leave some of them for 
Hugh, for he loved Judith, too. And then I thought 
how he loved the boys, and that, perhaps, it would be 
wrong to take them awav from him. Perhaps, if I had 
not been so angry, he would have quit the tobacco. Per- 

88 


A WOMAN^S story 


l.aps, if I bore the trial patiently, he would yet see the 
evil of his way. And then 1 remembered how I had 
promised to take him, for better or for worse, and now 
that the worse had come, I was about to break my mar- 
riage vow. I tiptoed into the room where he slept, think- 
ing to slip into bed, and try and learn to endure my 
cross. But, as I came near him, his breath was so foul, 
r.nd his tobacco stained lips looked so repulsive that I 
tu: ncd away in disgust, and lay down with the children 
r.gain. The idol of my heart was defiled, and I had 
loved him so. My head throbbed with the thoughts that 
ilew through my brain, until I seemed to hear the click, 
click, beat, beat, of my mother’s loom. Perhaps I had 
been too proud, and had felt too safe and happy, to be 
charitable to others. Perhaps this disgrace had been 
sent 1o me as a punishment. But how could I shield my 
little boys from this habit, if I stayed with Hugh? So 
I del^ated and prayed, until, when morning dawned, I 
had decided to stay and bear my punishment with what 
pafience I could, and do my best to save my boys. I 
wr )hed the tear stains from my eyes, and went to work, 
biT f -r days it seemed as though there had been a funeral 
in the house.” 

“Aunt Hannah, I should think Uncle Hugh would 
have quit when he knew how near yau came to leaving 
him.” 

“He never knew. I never spoke to anyone of that 
nieht until now. Perhaps I ought not to have spoken 
so to tliee, but I wanted thee to realize the importance of 
step thee has taken, and to know that thy influence 
- prevent much bitterness in the lives of other wo- 
men." 

A lint Hannah was atremble. and again Jane’s hand 
‘^linped up and caressed her face, and the moonlight 
showed tears glistening on the girl’s cheeks. 

89 


COFFIN NAItS: the; Sf6^tY OF M^grfgor 

“I have endured, a^nd tried to do my duty all these 
years, and to be patient, not only \vith Hugh, but with 
e\'eryone, and my temper seldom troubles me now 
Hugh tried to be neat about his tobacco, and never spit 
about the house, for he saw the change in me, and knew 
it was a trial to me. But J never could get over loath- 
ing the foul stench that perwaded his ureath and clothing. 
Of course I love him yet, in spite of his pollution, but 
I have never been able to feel that perfect confidence in 
him, nor respect for him, that I felt before, and it has 
alweys kept a slight estrangement and coldness between 
us. For a long time I did not leave my home. I could 
not bear to face my neighbors. x\nd it has always ham- 
pered my Sunday school work. I could not rqDrove the 
children for wrong-doing without feeling that they 
thought of my husband's bad habit. I still grieve that 
he should becloud his mind, and risk his soul’s salvation 
for a little indulgence of his carnal appetite. Of late 
the Spirit hath much impressed on my mind these words 
of Holy W' ii : “No drunkard shall inherit the kingdom 
of heaven.’ . A tobacco user is as surely a drunkard as 
a whiskey toper.” 

For a time they sat in silence, then Jane asked : “Aunt 
Hannah, how did you keep your boys from learning?” 

“Thee ought to have seen my boys, Jane, wFen they 
w^ere little — so bright, and ahvays asking questions that 
a wise man could not answ^er. John was a quiet, matter- 
of-fact child, but Harvey wms such an impulsive child, 
quick to anger, and quick to get over it, and so loving. 
Often he would quit his play, and run to me, and |)ut his 
arms around my necl:, and say : ‘Muzzer, I love ’ou too 
much.’ How* I loved them, and how^ I prayed that they 
might grow* up good, pure men. I taught them to hate 
tobacco and drink, almost as soon as they could talk. 
Hugh was kind, and never objected to my teaching them 


QO 


A woman's story 


thus. John says his fatlier told them once tliat he was 
sorry he ever 'negan to chew, and advised them never 
to l)egin ; and tlicy neve. did. 

“Alter a year at the Seminary, John settled down to 
faimiiig-, ijiit Many kept on, and gradnated. Bnt the 
Ijiizz and whir of the engines in the great implement fac- 
tories at Pcoiia, and the excitement of the city, set his 
liead in a whiil, and the farm was too narrow for him. 
lie wanted to l)e in the ])nshing throng.’' 

“And push to the top! To be sure! I understand,” 
exclaimed Jane, and the eager face was lifted from Aunt 
Hannah’s lap. 

“Wdien I saw him start to the city T felt that my last 
boy was gone. While he was in school I looked forward 
to his home-coming every we^k. But then I felt that my 
hal)v hoy was gone, and that only a ta-ll, busy man of the 
world wT)uld come back to visit.' Blow lonely the home 
seemed. How often I went to the window and looked 
down the road, for the form that never came. How ea- 
gerly 1 read and re-read his letters, especiallv those that 
had some loving phrase tucked in, now and then — some- 
thing to show that he still loved mother. 1 had many 
misgivings about the temptations and dangers of city life. 
Mothers can think of a hundred things to worry about. 

“At last he came on a visit, and seemed glad to see 
home and home folks. He had brought some mending 
for me to do, and T was looking over his coat, when out 
of the pocket dropped a cig;ar. I felt so dizzy and weak 
I had to sit down. Had my boy learned that loathsome 
habit? My hoy, of whom I was so proud? Had he 
trodden all my teachings under foot? Did he desnise 
mother as old-fashioned, and behind the times? AYhy 
must I bear this added humiliation? It seemed as it does, 
sometimes, when we turn from an open grave, as though 
Times’ clock had stopped, and we knew not how to take 


COFFIN NAILS: YHL SlrORY JANEi M^GRLGOR 

up life again. And my tears dropped on the coat in my 
hands. Just then Harvey came in, and stopped suddenly, 
with : ‘Why, mother, it’s not so bad as you think,’ and 
he picked up the cigar and flung it into the fire. 

“ ‘Oh ! Harvey ! How could you ?’ was all I could say. 
He sat down at my feet, leaned his head back in my lap, 
and slipped his long arms around my neck, and said, in 
his old boyish way: ‘Muzzer, dear, truly and honestly, 
I have never smoked, and never intend to. I love you 
too well to forget your teaching. The boys know I hate 
tobacco, and they sometimes slip a cigar in my pocket 
for a joke.’ ” 

“To be sure you was glad, was na’ you. Aunt Han- 
nah?” 

“I was more than glad, I was happy and proud.” 


CHAPTER X. 


The Gru .some Intruder. 


T he next morning, when Jane saw Uncle Hugh start-, 
ing after the cows, she ran after him, calling: 
“Uncle Hugh, may I help you fetch the cows?” 
“Yes, if you are not ashamed of your old uncle.” 

He seemed to be in a sober mood,^ and little was said 
until they reached the woods, when Jane sat down on a 
log, saying, peremptorily : “Uncle, sit down on this log.” 


92 


GRUE:S0MI]: intruder 

He sat down, facing her, asking: “What be you going 
to do with me? draw my picter? ' 

“No, i want to talk to you.” 

“Think you might have talked to me a walkin’, your 
woids fly off fast enough to catch a man runnin’.” 

“Uncle Hugh, is Aunt Hannah a good woman 

“Sartainly, one of the best women living.” 

“And dinna’ she used to love you?” 

“Used to! Guess she does yet. But she was purty 
loving in the old days. Chirked a man up in the hardest 
times, with them sweet ways of hers.” 

“Do you love her?” 

“Course I love her. What you driving at? Quizzing 
a man like a Philadelphia lawyer! Purty lawyer, you’d 
make, perched up there like a redheaded woodpecker. 
Do I look like a worm-eaten old stump?” 

“You look like a tobacco-soaked old stump. It’s clear 
beyond me how you could be so thrawn selfish, and down 
mean, if you love her, to keep right on using tobacco all 
these years when you know how she despises it!” 

“Well, you’re pretty hard on a man. I thought I had 
been keerful not to dirty her house with tobacco spit, for 
she’s sich a nice housekeeper.” 

“To be sure ! It was a wee bit kind of you not to drive 
her to the pig-sty, but your breath and clothes stink with 

p.” 

“I know she used to hate it, but I calkerlated she had 
got used to it. She never said nothin’ about it, ’cept 
right at the first.” 

“She dinna’ think it’s a bit of use. It’s mooch like 
throwing pearls before swine. But the .nasty stuff has 
well nigh smothered the love out of her heart.” 

“lane, did she ask you to talk to me about this ?” asked 
Uncle Hugh, jumping up. 

“No, she charged me to say naught aboot it, but I 


93 


.NAli,S: the: story of jane A1 ’GREGOR 

olni.- ..omise-S^-e were talking aboot our anti-totoc- 
00 society in schcvl, the way she came to tell me. bhe 
told how the tobacco had wedged m atween your heaits, 
and a most split your love apart, and i knew by the way 
her hands trembled, and her voice choked, that her heart 
was sore yet with the trouble. ’ 

“I knew she wasn't just like she used to be, but 1 
thought it was the children sort of divided her love up, 
an’ iiGwdays we re gettin old, and sort o say-nothin 
anyway," and Uncle Hugh sat down again, looking 
c[iute sober. 

“Nonsense, dividing love with the babies is like di- 
viding pieplant roots, makes them all grow' stronger.” ^ 
“Wtll, 1 never calkerlated to be selfish, but 1 guess ! 
am. But it would be pretty tough for an old man that's 
used it twenty years^ to break off now.'’ , 

“Uncle Hugh! Hav'na you a speck o' grit?” exclaim- 
ed June, springing to 'her feet. ‘!iere you're shriveled 
yourself yellow, and pickled > ourself loathsome, till your 
wife can scant abide you, and now you whine like a cry- 
baby aboot giving oop the nasty stuff. I would spunk 
up, and show a grain o’ grit! Here’s your wife hunger*^ 
ing for a kiss from clean lips, and hoping you’d be clean 
in the next world, anyhow, and now she’s a worritin’., 
afearing you'll never get there.” 

“Tut! Tut! T guess chewing a little tobacco won’t 
1'eep a good Christian out of heaven.” 

“You canna’ chew tobacco oop there, to be sure, it's 
too clean, you’d have to go to hell to spit.” 

“Hold on! Enough’s enough,” said Uncle Hugh, 
jumping up, and ramming his hand into his pocket. 
“Blere, take the old plug and throw it as far as you can 
send it, while I shut my eyes, for fear I go and hunt it up 
again, like I did when I tried to quit once before.” 


94 


the: grue:some: intrude:^ 

“Good for you, Uncle iiugh! it’s gone now, where 
you 11 never tind it. 

uncle liugii was cross as a bear the next few days, 
ana i\unt inannah said he walked the Hoor nearly all 
nig'iit, the second night after he quit his tobacco. But he 
would not go back to it, and they were all very patient 
with him, and did all they could to make things pleasant, 
and help him for get his old indulgence. Jane suggested 
that she had read that chewing gentian root was useful, 
and they got some, and it was quite a help. 

About a month after that a shower had caught Uncle 
Hugh when he was trying to finish a grain stack, and he 
caught a severe cold, and was quite feverish. Aunt Han- 
nah, who was something of a hydropathist, rolled him 
up in a w^et sheet and hot blankets. Jane, who' was at 
work in the kitchen, heard Aunt Hannah ask : “Shall 
I read to thee, or would thee rather rest ?” 

“Read? nothing! wdien a man’s sweating like a harvest 
hand. Get the Tribune, and read something sensible.” 
She w^ent out to the kitchen to get it, and he called after 
her: “Don’t be gone long. A fly might light on my 
nose, and you’ve got me wrapped like Pharaoh’s mum- 
my. I can’t move hand nor foot.’’ 

After awhile Aunt Hannah came out, saying to Jane: 
“He is fast asleep nowr. I will run out of doors and get 
a breath of fresh air. If thee hears thy uncle speak, call 
me at once.’’ 

When she returned, Jane heard some exclamations 
that sounded uncommonly loud for quiet Aunt Hannah. 
Some time afterwards Uncle Hugh came out and took 
his chair with a comic air of mock anger. 

“What’s gone wu-ong. Uncle Hugh? Didn’t it do you 
anv good?” lust then Aunt Hannah came out of the 
liedroom door, holding no the w^et sheet, so yellow it 
was almost browm, and a sickening odor filled the room. 


9 ^ 


COI^I^IN nails: lhl story oL janl m'grlgor 

“Tobacco!" exclaimed Jane, “Why, uncle, it’s a month 
since you quit using it. 

“And here your aunt is accusing me of going back to 
my old habit, he replied, with an air of injured inno- 
cence, “and I havn't touched it since I gave you my 
plug.” 

“The room smelled so strongly of tobacco when I 
came in from the fresh air, I could hardly believe but that 
thee must be chewing again,” explained Aunt Hannah. 

“I told you. Uncle Hugh, that you were pickling your- 
self in tobacco." 

“Well, I’ll warrant I would have quit it long ago, if I 
had known I was making such a brown pickle of myself 
as that.” 

The day after school cloesd Lucy had taken the train * 
to the southern part of the state, to spend the vacation 
with, an aunt. She had a lonely ride, and a lonliei wait 
at a secluded junction in the woods; and it was after 
dark when they reached Alton, where she must again 
change cars. But Mrs. Sutton, an old friend of her 
mother’s, had invited Lucy to stop there and visit her. 
She was confused by the bustle and din, but Mrs. Sutton 
soon found her. Mrs. Sutton’s son and daughter lived 
near, and came with their families, and they spent a 
' Icasant evening together. They were much older than 
Lucy, but she could just remember seeing them when 
she was a child. 

Lucy was shown to an elegant chamber, on the sec- 
ond floor, and soon fell> into a sound slumber. Some 
time in the night she awoke suddenly, as though some- 
thing had startled her. The old moon shone in through 
the lace curtains, and reflected a crescent from the mir- 
ror on the dresser, and she realized that she was at 
Mrs. Sutton’s. She was just dozing off to sleep again, 
when she heard a strange noise — a sound betrveen a 

q6 


the: grue:some: ini'rude:r 


moan of pain and the grunt of an animal. It appeared 
to be over her;. head. She reasoned that it was the 
snoring of one of the servants in the room above. Soon 
the grunting ceased, and she heard slow shuffling steps 
overhead. They grew more distant and then all was 
silent. She concluded it was one of the servants who 
had risen early, and gone down to the kitchen. She 
was about to fall asleep once more, when she heard 
those shuffling steps again. They were surely coming 
down the hall. She remembered that she had neglected 
to lock her door. She was about to get up and lock it, 
when she heard the step pause at her door, and a fumb- 
ling at the door knob. Like a child, she covered her 
head. Slowly the door swung open, and the heavy 
steps crossed the room to the dresser. Was it a robber? 
Was it some strange ghostly apparition? She dared 
not scream, nor move. The cold sweat broke out on 
her forehead. Then she heard a slight rattle, as though 
some one was moving things on the dresser. It must 
be a robber hunting for her jewelry. Little he would 
find. Would he kill her? The rattling of things on 
the dresser continued. Her curiosity overcame her fear. 
With almost imperceptible motions she raised the cover 
and jDcejDed out. There, in the dim light stood what 
looked like a human figure, too low for a man, too 
heavy for a boy. He gave a low gurgling laugh, as 
though something had pleased him. He had evidently 
caught a glimpse of himself in the glass. Straining her 
eyes she saw a faint reflection — a hideous grinning face 
with heavy jaws covered with fuzzy beard — or was it 
grunt that she had heard overhead, and started toward 
her. Her heart stood still with fear. No, not toward 
her — he passed by her, and out of the door. She heard 
the steps shuffle along the hall, and another door open. 
Springinp: out, she shut and locked her door, and lay 


97 


NAii.;^ the; story JAN4 m'cre:c-or 

down again. Presently she heard voices in farther 
part of the house— th&a sounds of scuffling, aad loud 
angry worchs^then ■ tho^';. grunts, nior«/'4a'^;g>i!, than 
ever, then retreating stteps. All was sflcat at length. 
Had the servants caught the robber, and taken him to 
the police station? Or was it some pet bear baboon 
that had beei? caught and returned to its cage? No, 
it WS5 not a bear, the face was too human for that. 
There was no more sleep for her. 

It proved to be nearly morning, and the 'household 
was soon astir. When she arose and looked at the 
dresser, she found things disturbed-. That was evidence 
that it was a realitty, and not a troubled dream. She 
hurried down when the breakfast bell rang, expecting 
to find the household excited over the episode, but all 
was quiet. It was on her tongue’s end to ask eagerly 
about it, l)ut Mrs. Sutton met her with a remark about 
the pleasant morning, and seated her at the table, con- 
tinuing the conversation on conimon-place topics. There 
was no opportunity for her question without seeming 
rudeness. The servants passed in and out, with faces 
imperturbed, as though nothing unusual had happened.' 
The longer she waited, the stranger grew the mystery 
of their silence, and the more afraid she was to ask. • 

The hour came for her departure. She was taken 
in their carriage to the depot, and bade farewell to 
her friends — and her uncanny visitor remained unex- 
plained. 


98 


CHAPTER XL 


Is This Th^ End? 


Henry Carson had vvritteii that lie was coming over 
irom the city, to visit Nellie. How long the afternoon 
seemed to her. She found herself running to the window 
every few minutes. So she took her sewin,; tw the porch, 
where she could see far down the road. .\s she watched 
her mind wandered back to the winters at Eudora, ar.cl 
lier acquaintance with Henry. She remembered how 
anxious she had been, when the girls first started their 
society, to have him give up smoking, for it seemed the 
one bad habit that spoiled an almost perfect man. She 
saw now that her anxiety about him had been the main- 
spring that had kept up her enthusiasm. She had thought 
that a young man of his intelligence, when he learned 
how injurioi^.s the tobacco habit was, would give it up; 
and so he had. And she had been so hap]iy. And now 
he was coming to see her in her own home. What if he 
should disappoint her. He would be tempted to smoke 
again. Would he be strong enough to resist temptation? 
And he would often meet Flossy in societv. and she 
would try to win him back. But heJiad written that he 
was coming, and of course he would come. vShe went 
in, and helped her mother ]iut supper on the table. It 
was with a very critical eye that she surveyed the table 
and the rooms, for she wanted Henry to be favorably 
impressed fith her home. Her waiting was at length 
rewarded, and Henry was cordially welcomed by herself 


COFFIN nails: THL story or JANE m'GREGOR 

and parents. After supper, and a little general conversa- 
tion, the other members of the family excused themselves, 
and went to their evening chores, which are inevitable 
on a farm, and Nellie took Henry out to see her flowers. 
Every flower and tree had some especial beauty, which 
she pointed out in her vivacious manner, and when a 
bird burst into an ecstacy of song in a tree above their 
heads, she exclaimed : ‘‘Listen to my robin, he sings 
as though he would burst his little throat.” 

“Oh, you little enthusiast! Even the birds love you,” 
Avas the reply. “But I have heard a sweeter singer than 
your bird. Let us go in and have some music. I want 
to hear you sing again.” 

As Henry stood by the piano, helping Nellie look over 
the music, she imagined she smelled tobacco smoke, but 
sne put away the idea with the excuse that it was on his 
clothes, and, in the city, of course he could not hOp being 
around where other people smoked. If he had returned 
:o his old habit he would not have come to see her. She 
rattled off a gay ditty, and then she sang a tender love 
scng, and his rich voice joined in the chorus. She looked 
up at him at the close of the song, and the tenderness of 
his glance sent a thrill to her heart. Then she started 
on a dreamy waltz. As he stooped to turn her music 
she smelled tobacco again, and she was sure it was on 
his breath, and liquor too, she thought. She had not 
once dreamed of his coming to claim her, in case he 
began smoking again. What should she do? There 
was a clang on the keys, an awkward attempt to recover 
Ihe Ume, and she made excuse: 

“It is getiing too dark to see the notes.” 

“Well, sing something, then.” 

Her fingers wandered over the keys, and presently 
she began singing a plaintive ditty that she had learned 
\;hen a child: “Oh! Bury Me Not in the Deep, Deep 


^ 1X00 


IS THIS the: end? ‘ 

Sea.” It suited her mood, for were not her hopes about 
to be buried ? When she finished, she arose, saying : “I 
think I would better light the lamps.” But he said : 

“No, let us go outside, it is warm in here.” 

And so they walked out, and Nellie led the way to a 
seat under a tree, saying: “This is my cosy nook.” 

Henry was conscious of an undefinable change in her 
tone and manner, but he laid it to the sad song, and be- 
gan telling of his last fishing excursion, and other merry 
experiences. But, as Nellie listened, her thoughts wan- 
dered. What did it mean? Did he intend to deceive 
her? Or did he think he was sure of her, and that she 
would overlook it, rather than lose him? Did he think 
she could go back, thus lightly, on her principles? Would 
she, rather than give him up? That was a hard ques- 
tion. Possibly she was mistaken. Possibly he had only 
broken his promise once, and, if she would tell him how 
she felt, he would not do it again. She turned the con- 
versation back to school days, watching for a chance to 
ask the dreaded question. At length he made some re- 
mark about their society, and she ventured: 

“Henry, have you been smoking again?” 

“Why, yes, a little.” 

“I thought I smelled tobacco on your breath, and — 
liquor, too. I did not know you ever drank.” 

“1 do not care for it, but I met some of my chums just 
before I left the city, and they would have me take a glass 
of wine, and a cigar with them. It would have been 
impolite to refuse.” 

“But I thought you had quit smoking.” 

“So I did, to please you. It was all right there at 
school, but I supposed that was one of your schoolgirl 
enthusiasms, that you would drop when schooldays were 
over, as you drop your school books.” 


lOI 


coi?i^iN NA1I.S : the: story jane: m'gre:gor 

“No, indeed. I believe just as strongly as ever that 
the habit is wrong.” 

“Yes, it is wrong to carry such habits to excess, but 
people of intelligence are supposed to have self-control, 
and not go to excess.” 

“But it would be better to give them up entirely.” 

“Nellie, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you, 
reared in this quiet country neighborhood, and educated 
in a country village, have little knowledge of the ways 
of the world. It is the custom in all good society for 
gentlemen to smoke cigars, and for both ladies and gen- 
tlemen to drink a little wine occasionally; and for me to 
refuse to accept, or offer, such hospitality, would be to 
estrange • myself from good society. Do you compre- 
hend my situation?” 

“Yes, I see, but — ” 

“Nellie,” he interrupted, “I wish you would spend a 
few weeks in the city, your ideas would be broadened, 
and, with your grace and beauty, you would outshine 
any of them.” 

Nellie was silent, and Henry, in his self-assurance, 
thought he had almost convinved her. “Of course,” he 
went on, “as people get older, they can be more inde- 
pendent, without losing caste, but an ambitious young 
man cannot afford to do so, if he intends entering a bus- 
iness or profession. It would be practical suicide, from 
a business point of view, to render myself unpopular, as 
I would do, were I to follow your advice.” Then he 
talked of how hard he was studying, and what good 
prospects he had when he should be admitted to the bar, 
and how popular he was becoming as a speaker, and how' 
he had been invited tO' deliver a Fourth- of- July oration. 
Nellie listened, and laughed at his droll mimicry of his 
own speech, but a miniature battle was going on in her 
heart, meanwhile. i 

102 ^ , ' ' , . , 


IS THIS the: end? 

‘‘Some day,” he went on, “I expect to own one of the 
finest residences in Peoria, but, at first, I will have to be 
content with a cottage. And, Nellie, I shall want you to 
make a happy home for me. Will you be my wife?” 

His voice was full of tenderness, and he clasped her 
hand eagerly, and bent to catch her answer. He saw, 
by the light of the moon, that her eyes dropped low, but 
she asked bravely : 

“Henry, won't you promise me that you will quit 
smoking and wine drinking from now on?” 

“Why, Nellie, you surely will not let such trifles spoil 
our happiness. Throw aside your foolish notions, and 
give me my answer.” 

“Would you have me violate my pledge, and my con- 
victions of duty?” 

“You are taking this matter entirely too serious, Nel- 
lie. If I thought you did not care for me, I would go at 
once, but I know you do. Awhile ago- your face \\as 
radiant, now the light has all gone out of it. Nellie, 
darling, look up. I will try to quit after we are m.ar- 
ried. I will not care so much for society then.” 

There was a last short conflict between love and duty, 
and then, as Nellie remembered Mrs. Clark’s advice; 
“Never marry a person to reform him,” she answered 
with forced calmness: “I can not sacrifice my self-re- 
spect on such a doubtful promise.” 

The man hesitated. It seemed hard, just then, to lose 
the woman so nearly his own, but he was nettled by her 
independence, and by the fact that she perceived v.’hat 
a coward he really was. And there came thoughts of 
his ambition for political honors, and of election times, 
and political conventions. At length he arose and said, 
coolly, “Is this the end?” 

The answer came, calmly and firmly, “Yes, this is 
the end.” 


103 


CHAPTER XII. 


Eovk Wears a New Disguise. 


B ack at school again. The girls coaid scarcely wait 
until evening to tell each other their vacation ex- 
periences. As they passed down the Seminary 
steps, that first noon, a fine team and carriage dashed 
past them down the street. 

“Oh! There's Henry Carson, and Flossy Larkin,” 
cried Sallie. 

“Flossy Larki|i no longer, but Mrs. Carson,” replied 
Laura. 

There was a chorus of “Oh my !” and “Oh dear !” and 
? lattie Dorson explained that they were on their wed- 
-ing trip. ’ 

“Did you nothith him thmoking?” lisped Charley 
Martin. 

“To be sure! Broken his promise. Fd be ashamed 
to flaunt my disgrace,” answered Jane. 

“Guess he thinks he’s got a wife that likes cigar smoke, 
and wants us girls to know it,” remarked Sallie. 

“The contemptible deserter!” exclaimed George. 
Nellie was a little behind the others, just coming out 
of the door when the carriage passed. Prof. Felton hap- 
pened to be near her, and noticed how her face paled as 
she saw the occupants, and how it flushed at Sallie’s bad- 
inpr^e. and he felt like echoing George’s comment. 

“Did vou know Arthur and Mary were married too?” 
asked Sallie, 


104 


I.OVK we:ars a ndw disguise 

“No, we had not heard of it, but we expected it,” re- 
plied Elsie. 

The Walnut street crowd started off together, all talk- 
ing at once. 

“Can’t you girls all come over this evening?” asked 
Elsie. “Mamma would be so glad tO' have you come.” 

“Yes, come, and we will have an experience meeting,” 
added Nellie. 

Several girls came to Mrs. Clark’s that evening, and 
Mrs. Heath came over with Minnie, for she and Mrs. 
Clark were warm friends. Lucy and Nellie had just 
come from the postoffice. 

“It makes me angry to go*to the postoffice,” said Nellie 
“the foul tobacco smoke almost strangles me.” 

“My lips smart yet with the strong acrid taste,” added 
Lucy, “and I actually feel sick.” 

“It’s a disgrace to our civilization,” answered Mrs. 
Heath, “that public buildings, where women must go, 
should be kept so foul. Lhave known ladies to be sick 
a half a day after going to the postoffice.” 

“And the poor children,” said Minnie; “I heard a girl 
say she had a headache every time she went to the office.” 

“Let us complain tO' the postmaster general ,at Wash- 
ington, and have him forbid tobacco using in all the 
postoffices,” said Jane. 

“Goethe said ^Do the duty that lies nearest thee,’ I 
think it would be more practical to petition our postmas- 
ter to forbid it in our own office,” suggested Mrs. Heath. 

Aunty Clark joined them in the sitting-room, as soon 
as the supper work was finished. She was such an affec- 
tionate little body, and entered so sympathetically into 
their plans, and even into their fun, that her little sitting 
room had become their rendezvous, and they confided 
everything to her. as though she was an older sister. The 


COFFIN NAIFS: THE STORY OF JANF m'GRFGOR 

girls recounted the various experiences of the summer, 
some amusing, and some serious. 

“Do you girls remember about the Woman’s Crusade 
a few years ago?” Lucy inquired. 

“Where they prayed in saloons?” asked Jane. 

“Yes, and you know we read about their starting tem- 
perance societies.” Then she told them how she had, 
that summer, found a Woman’s Christian Temperance 
Union, and a Young Woman’s Union, and she advised 
them to change their anti-tobacco society into a Y, as 
the young woman’s society was called for short. Slie 
explained that they could thus work against both drink 
and tobacco, and that the young men could join as hon- 
orary members. 

“I am glad you thought of that,” said Mrs. Heath. 
I have also been learning about the W. C. T. U., and 
was planning to start a union here this fall.’' 

“Getting signers for that petition will be work for 
the Y’s, exclaimed Nellie. “We will get every woman 
in town to sign it.’' 

“Mrs. Darnell won’t sign it, so she won’t,” spoke up 
Sallie, she smokes an old pipe.’ 

“She’s an ignorant old thing,” said Laura. 

“She is very kindhearted,” Lucy replied, “but she was 
raised in the South, you know.’' 

“Oh yes,” said Nellie, “my papa traveled in the South, 
and he said some of the southern women dipped little 
sticks in snuff, and chewed the ends of them. And old 
women would ask him, a perfect stranger, for a chew of 
tobacco, and he said they looked sallow and scrawny.” 

“I pity the children of such mothers,” remarked 
Minnie. 

“I think many an innocent .babe has been smoked to 
death,” observed her mother. “Back in Massachusetts 
a babe, that had been strong and healthy, became very 

"o6 


tOVE) WKAR^ A NRW disguise! 

sick. The doctor said it had been poisoned. Come to 
find out, the father had been left to care for it awhile, 
seme gentlemen friends called, and they had a sociable 
smoke, and the doctor said it had breathed the poisoned 
air, till it came near dying.” 

“Well, Mrs. Heath, you may count on me for your 
W. C. T. U.,” replied Aunty Clark. “I think it is time 
the people were being taught something about these 
things.” 

“Mrs. Heath,” said Elsie, who had been at the piano, 
looking over her music, “here is that new song you prom- 
ised to play for us.” Mrs. Heath was a fine musician, 
ind she soon had the girls all singing with her. 

Mrs. Heath and Mrs. Clark, busy, hard-working wo- 
men tliQugh they were, found time to organize a Wo- 
man’s Christian Temperance Union, and the temperance 
and anti-tobacco sentiment became stronger than ever in 
Eudora. One of the old literary societies was given up, 
and the Y took its place, having literary prog'ams, 
spiced with temperance sentiments. 

“Oh, goody! The old finals are over with!” exclaim- 
ed Sallie, as a crowd of students came down the walk, at 
the close of the term. 

“Got your grade card? I’ve got mine. Got above 
eighty, ain’t that fine?” asked Zina. 

“I heard Miss Miller say she thought Jane would have 
a hundred in nearly every studv,” said Minnie. 

“If that redhead gets a hundred in Algebra, I know 
the teachers are partial,” snapped Mattie Dorson. 

“Humph! You could most see the envy sticking out 
of that rernark,” retorted George. 

“Oh, George, you ought not to have said that, I fear 
it hurt Mattie’s feelings,” said Minnie, after Mattie 
passed. 

107 


COlFiif NAltS : STORY OF JANF M^ORFGOk 

“Sorry for it, Puss, for your sake; but she holds her 
head so high, 1 like to see her toss it.” 

“Do you know they are fitting up a laboratory in the 
basement,” asked Sallie, “and are going to recite Physics 
and Chemistry down there?” 

“To be sure,' replied Jane, “dinna’ you fear it will 
debase us? The like of new apparatus that Prof. Felton 
is putting in there, I never saw afore. We’ll have to put 
our brains in steep to learn all that science.” 

“I love to recite in Prof. Felton’s classes,” said Nellie, 
“he is awfully interesting.” 

“Didn t Henry make a big splurge at society last 
night?” asked Sallie. 

“Yes, and Cyrus, too,” answered Irene. 

“Course you think so, but I caught Cyrus hunting big 
words in the dictionary, so I did. His speech was writ- 
ten in conimon wouls, and he was hunting big words to 
put in their places.” 

“Don’t have a cat-fight over it. They both made a 
big splurge. Two Daniel Websters on hands already, 
what will we have when I come on the stage?” 

It was a pleasant spring evening, and Prof. Felton 
and his botany class were going to the woods. Nellie 
and Elsie walked quietly along with Prof. Felton, while 
the younger girls skipped from one flower to another, or 
ran races with the boys. 

“What a beautiful evening it is,” said Elsie. 

“It is just lovely!” returned Nellie, “and the flowers 
are just the loveliest ! ever did see. The air is loaded 
with the sweetest fragrance, it is just like breadline 

1 O 

honey. 

“Yes.” said Prof. Felton, “that little cottage, em- 
bowered in snowy cherry trees, would make a pretty 
scene for a picture, with the purple lilacs and scarlet 

io8 


IvOve: we:ars a new disguise 


tulips in the green yard, and the delicate pink and green 
of the apple orchard, and the deeper green of the woods 
for a background.” 

“You folks better hurry on, or it will be dark before 
you get to the woods,” called Sallie. “How many kinds 
of flowers have you picked?” 

“We have been so busy admiring them,” answered 
Elsie, “that we had not thought of picking any.” 

“We will now turn our admiration from a general to 
a specific point of view,” said Prof. Felton; but every 
little while he called their attention to some new beauty 
of flower or landscape, and Nellie went into ecstacies 
over it. Minnie, who had tired of running, had dropped 
back with them, and she and Elsie kept up a conversa- 
tion, paying little heed to their teacher’s remarks. When 
they reached the woods, part of them stopped to examine 
a bird’s nest, but Jane, Sallie, Nellie and the Professor 
wandered on. 

“Have you found any of those painted cups yet?” he 
asked. 

“No, I have not seen any today,” replied Nellie. 

“I found plenty of them last year on that bluff across 
the creek,” he rejoined, “And those wild pansies that I 
spoke of, grow there, too. It is easily reached from the 
other side, but it would be quite a climb up this side of 
the bluff.” 

“We can climb it,” said Jane, “and the foot-log is right 
up there.” 

“Do you feel like climbing it, Nellie?” 

“Yes, sir, it does not look very steep.” Jane and 
Sallie were soon across and began climbing, as agile as 
squirrels. But Nellie hesitated, and the Professor helped 
her across the log, and up the bluff. They soon found 
the brilliant painted cups, and began digging them up. 
"I want you girls to notice the peculiarity about these 

109 


COFFIN NAIFS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

flowers,” he said. “This bright scarlet is not the flower 
itself, but only the bright colored leaves and calyx sur- 
rounding the flowers. Those tiny yellowish white parts 
inside are the real carrollas.” 

Jane stepped away, motioned for Sallie, and whispered 
“Let’s dig some of these for the other girls, he won’t 
miss us, just so Nellie listens.” And the Professor went 
on explaining the various parts of the flowers, oblivious 
of their absence. 

“Guess those boys have shot a squirrel,” cried Sallie, 
as a gun-shot made Nellie jump. 

“It is sunset, and time to go home,” said Jane, and 
taking their plants, they collected their crowd and re- 
turned. After Prof. Felton had bidden them good night, 
Nellie said to Jane and Sallie: 

“Girls, you were rude this evening, to go off while 
Prof. Felton was explaining that flower to you.” 

“He didn’t care, so you heard. You’re his pet, any- 
how, so you are!” snapped Sallie. 

“I am no more his pet than you are, only my mother 
taught me to be respectful to my teachers, and to listen 
politely when people talk to me.” 

A week or two afterwards the young ladies of Prof. 
Felton’s class had waited in the laboratory for him to 
perform some chemical experiments. They had begged 
to be excused on a previous evening, when he was show- 
ing them to the class on account of a social invitation. 

“What is your hurry tonight, young ladies?” he asked, 
as he noticed their impatience to be going, as soon as he 
had finished his first experiment. 

“Please excuse us again, Professor,” said Irene, “we 
had planned to go to the milliner’s this evening.” 

“You are excused,” he replied, “although I have every- 
thing ready, and it would take but a few moments.” 


tovr: WEARS A NEW insC Gist 

“I guess we haven’t time/’ answered Irene, “Good 
evening.” 

“Girls, it is too bad,” said Nellie, when they were out- 
side the door. “Didn’t you see how disappointed he 
locked. This is the second time he has prepared things 
for us. We ought not to treat him that way.” 

“But I promised the milliner we would be down to 
look at our Commencement hats, and I am going,” said 
Irene. 

“I can get mine some other day. Elsie, cannot you 
and Minnie stay with me?” They stopped, and Nellie 
went back in, explaining that Elsie and Minnie would 
soon be in. 

Prof. Felton placed his test tubes on the table, and 
chatted with Nellie a few minutes. Looking out of the 
window, she exclaimed, “There they go! The girls have 
coaxed Minnie and Elsie to gO' too.” 

“I will show the experiment for your especial benefit,” 
and he began talking about the strange properties of 
some chemicals, adding: 

“Please hand me the bottle behind you.” 

“This chalk dust is awful sticky,” said Nellie, drop- 
ping what looked like a bit of chalk. 

“Where did you find that?” 

“I picked it up, here on the table.” 

“Don’t rub it.” Too late. A hasty brush — a blue 
flame flashed over her fingers, and she threw up her hand 
with a sharp cry. In an instant she was lifted to the 
tank, and a stream of water was flowing over her hand. 

“What was that stuff? I just thgught it was a piece 
of chalk.” 

“It was a piece of phosphorus. I had been emplying 
it from one glass jar to another, and I knew I dropped 
a few bits, but I thought I found all of them. ’ 


Ill 


I 


COFFIN NAlFS : THF Sl^ORY OF JANF m'GRFGOR 

“I was playing with it while I listened to yon. I hard- 
ly knew what 1 was doing. It was careless m 1 me.'’ 

“It was more careless of me leaving it around. Let us 
sei how badly it is burned. There are only a few blis- 
ters. But 1 am so sorry it happened. I fear you will not 
trust yourself in my care often. Is it painful?. . 

“Not while it is in the water.” The Professor soon 
found a remedy, and bound her fingers up carefully. 

“That feels easier already. Can’t we have the ex- 
periment ?” 

“Certainly,” and he proceeded to show her two fluids 
in separate vessels, each as clear as water, and, pouring 
them together, they became a bright scarlet. Picking up 
the glass, Prof. Felton stepped near the window, and 
held it up to the light, and Nellie voiced her admiration 
enthusiastically. As he set the glass down, she asked, 
“Can we have the other experiment, or shall we wait till 
the other girls can see it?” 

“Perhaps we would better wait.” 

“I wonder what the girls will say when they see my 
fingers ?” 

“Tell them vou was nlaving with fire.” 

“Sallie called me Prof. Felton’s pet, one day. I expect 
she will call me that again, for staying here today.” 

“The saucy minx! Do you object to being Prof. Fel- 
ton’s pet?” 

“I always enjoy your teaching and experiments. You 
make exerything so interesting. But of course I don’t 
like to be teased. I am glad that it is my left hand that 
is burned. This finger hurts, I think it is tied too tight- 
ly,” and she came nearer, and held it out for him to wrap 
and tie it again. 

“Poor little hand, I wouldn’t have had it burned for 
all the experiments.” 

“I know the girls will tease me awfully, but I am glad 


II2 


tOVE) WI^ARS A N W DISGUISE 

I stayed, anyhow. I will tell them they missed the pret- 
tiest experiment we ever had.” 

“I am glad you stayed, too, Nellie. Sorry as I am for 
the accident, 1 have enjoyed your presence more than I 
can tell. You have been such an interested pupil all 
winter, that it has helped me in my work.” He leaned 
one elbow on the window, still holding her bandaged fin- 
gers with the other hand, and watched her animated face. 

“Nellie, I have enjoyed our association in school so 
much, that I wish to continue a nearer association.” 

She looked up with a puzzled expression. Something 
in his tone, more than his words, had startled her. But 
the western light at his back, which shown full in her 
face, left his in shadow. 

“Do you not understand, little girl?” and the tone was 
lower, and tenderer than before. You have grown very 
dear to me. Do you think you can learn to care for me?” 

“Oh! You know I like you so well as my best and 
dearest teacher, but — don’t know. Don’t you know 
about Henry?” 

“Yes, I know. I saw it in your face the day he drove 
by here with his bride. I had seen enough in the winter 
to understand. The impudent fellow puffed that cigar in 
our faces to insult you. I pitied you, and resolved to help 
you forget him by interesting you in your studies. Have 
I succeeded?” 

“Oh, yes, only — ” and her eyes dropped with embar- 
rassment. 

“Never mind trying to give me an answer now. I am 
content to wait till you know your own heart.” 

“I like you — ever so much,” she faltered, but I fear I 
can never love anybody again, like I did the first time.” 

“Do not mistake yourself, dear. A second love is 
often the truest love. I would rather trust it than an 
evanescent first love.” 


COFI^IN NAIIvS : story of JANK M^GRKGdR 

A rattling noise from the other room startled them. 
Prof. Felton stepped to the door of the apparatus room. 

“Oh! It’s you, is it, Ned? I have not time to help 
you with that machine tonight, you can go now.” Com- 
ing back to Nellie, he remarked, “Ned has one redeeming 
quality, he does like machinery, and I am trying to en- 
courage him.” 

They heard him going out, and Nellie said “I smell 
smoke. Ned often lights a cigar before he gets off the 
campus.” 

“He will have to be censured.” 

“Oh! There come the girls.” And Nellie bade her 
teacher goodnight, and joined her schoolmates. Prof. 
Felton stood at the window, watching the girls, and 
dreaming, as only young people can — for he was still on 
the sunny side of thirty. Suddenly he came to himself. 
How silent it was. The janitor had gone to supper, and 
he was alone in the building. The smell of smoke was 
quite distinct. That boy must be taught obedience, he 
thought. He looked into the other room, to see what. 
Ned had been meddling with. As he opened the door, 
the smoke almost strangled him. A pile of waste, used 
in cleaning machinery, had just burst into a blaze. It 
was but the 'work of a moment to quench the hre. 


CHAPTER XIIL 


Pride: Goe:th Before: Destruction. 


T om grimes, the father of Ned, had §:rovvn up 
with the town, and become a prosperous dealer in 
horses, and owner of a livery barn. He was one 
of the stockholders of the Seminary, and was trying to 
educate his boy for a lawyer. 

Ned was bright, and had learned fast in the public 
school. He wanted to be a carpenter, but was given to 
understand that he was too rich to learn a trade. So he 
played in the streets, and learned to swear and smoke. 
His father had never been a drinking man, but he loved 
his pipe as well as he loved his horses. He had come 
home early one evening, and taken a seat by the open 
window, and was smoking with unusual vigor, for liis 
mind was absorbed with thoughts of his horses. He 
had secured a fine span of young blacks for a carriage 
team, and was proud of them. They had won a prem- 
ium at the county fair the previous fall, and he was care- 
fully training them for the state fair. 

His little girl ran in excitedly, saying: “Oh, pa, they 
have turned Ned out of school. He set the Seminary 
afire — ’most burned it up — threw his match in the papers. 
He smoked ’gainst the rules.” 

“I’d like to see them ! I’m one of the regents !” he ex- 
claimed, springing to his feet. But, dizzy and blind, he 
would have fallen, had his wife not caught him, and 
hel])ed him down on the sofa. 

“Run for the doctor, quick!” 

IIS 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OE JANE m'GREGOR 

The doctor soon came, and his patient rallied. But, 
before leaving, Dr. Hawley said : “Now, Grimes, I 
want to tell you the truth. You’ve been smoking .too 
much. Bad news does not break a healthy man’s heart. 
If you do not quit, some day a little extra excitement will 
bring on another attack — perhaps a fatal one.” 

“Tim, get the blacks out for me, I want to take my 
girl buggy riding,” Ned Grimes called out, one evening, 
in an insolent manner, to Timmy Tackett, his father’s 
hostler. 

“No, Ned, they’re in training now, you know, and 
have been driven enough today.” 

“Guess I can get ’em myself.” 

“No, you won’t!” exclaimed Tim, pocketing the key 
to their stall. 

The boy made an angry exclamation, but swallowed 
his wrath, and ordered Tim to get out the bays. 

Tim was asleep when Ned drove in, late that evening, 
and he did not awaken him. Ned had bragged to Mattie 
about his swift trotters, and it angered him that he had 
been obliged to drive another team. He was thinking 
sulkily over the matter, as he put away the horses. He 
rolled the buggy into the shed, and flung his cigar stump 
down, wishing he was of age. 

“Fire! Fire!” shouted a belated Citizen who had just 
come in on the night train. And soon the fire bells ring- 
ing out the alarm, aroused the firemen from their dreams. 
Eudora could only boast a small hand engine, and a vol- 
unteer company of young men, and a fire was an unusual 
excitement for them. 

Clear and rapid came the strokes, and they sprang 
from their beds, and, in a few minutes, came running up 
to Cap. Gaston’s. He was the captain of their company, 
and kept the engine in his barn. 

"Fire I Fire!” they shouted, as they passed his window. 

n6 


PRIDE GOETH before destruction 

“Don’t wait for him !” 

“Out with it!” 

“Here’s the hose.” 

“Here we go.” 

Mattie Gaston heard the cries, and sprang to her win- 
dow in time to see them starting down the hill, just as 
her father reached the door, but she had little idea /that 
this was the result of her ride. » 

“Hold on, there, boys ! Hold on !” shouted Cap. 
Gaston. They paused a moment. 

“Where’s the fire? Whose house is it?” 

“Don’t know,” and “Down street, don’t you see the 
smoke,” were the confused replies. And on they dashed, 
leaving the pompous ; old captain following, shouting: 
“Hold on! Hold on!” 

“Never mind the captain!” 

“Hurry! Hurry!”', 

“We’ll be too late!” ‘ 

“See the smoke, it’s getting blacker.” 

“There’s a blaze!” 

“Fire! Fire!” Startled from slee]) by the sharp clang 
of the bell, one and another took up the cry. Frightened, 
bewildered, they rushed out, looking first at their own 
homes, and then at the Seminary. 

“Fire! Fire!” The cry startled Jane. Was she 
awake, or dreaming? A pounding on the stair door, 'and 
Mrs. Mallows’ voice called: “Wake up, girls! Fire! 
Fire! The Seminary’s burning up!” 

“Sallie! Sallie! Wake up,” exclaimed Jane, giving 
her a shake, as she sprang out. The room was bright 
with the red glare. 

“Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! Is the house afire ? Whatever 
shall we do?” cried Sallie, as she jumped out of bed. 

“No, hut the Seminary is. Let’s dress and go see it.” 

In three minutes they were down stairs meeting Mrs. 


COFFIN NAIF'S STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

Mallows, who explained ; “It aint the Seminary, it s 
down town. It was so light I couldn’t tell which it was 
at first; and I’m always scared about the Seminary, 
whenever the fire bell rings.” 

“I am so glad it isn’t the seminary.” 

“Oh, goody! goody!” echoed Sallie. 

“We’re going to see the fire,” called Jane, as they 
ran, and, a moment later, she shouted; “It’s the barn! 
Mr. Grimes’ barn.” 

“Oh, the poor horses!” cried Sallie. 

Whew! What a fire!” 

“The buggy shed’s going!” 

“Red hot buggies by the wholesale,” and other ex- 
cited remarks were yefled by the firemen, as they 
reaehed the barn. 

“Timmy Tackett! Timmy Tackett!” 

“Gabriel’s horn wouldn’t wake him!” 

“Up with the hose!” 

“Kick the doors open!” 

“Out with the horses !” 

“Who wants horses this time of night?” asked Tim, 
rolling out of bed, and rubbing his eyes. 

“Wake up, Tim, Fire! Fire!” 

“Oh, the horses,” cried Tim, as he saw the red glare 
of the fire. And he dashed into the stables. The boys 
were ahead of him. The fire was on the other side of 
the barn. Fast as many hands could untie them the 
horses were driven out, and dashed excitedly down the 
street. 

“Oh, the blacks! The old man’s blacks,” yelled Tim. 
“They’re locked up on the other side. Where’s the key? 
Oh, it’s in my pocket?” and he ran through the barn. 

The girls, running down the street, sprang to- the 
sidewalk, as they saw the horses racing toward them. 
Then something sped by them, like a deer. 

ii8 


pride: GOitTH BP.PORE: DESTRUCl'ION 

“Was it a horse?” asked Sallie. 

“No, it was Ned Grimes,” answered James. 

“Oh, the fire’s on that side!” cried Ned. “Where’s 
Morg and Nero? Where’s father's blacks? Are they 
out?” 

“No, Tim’s after ’em,” and in sprang Ned. 

“It’s too hot!” 

“Stop! Stop! It’s too late!” they yelled, as several 
ran around the outside to open the door. 

The engine was playing on the fire, lint the puny 
streams only hissed, and rolled up in steam. Up from 
the shed roof to the barn roof climbed the greedy red 
flames. Underneath, out of the smouldering haymow, 
poured the thick smoke; little tongues of lurid flame 
darting out here and there. 

“Where’s Ned and Tim?” 

“Have they perished in the heat?” 

“Have they suffocated in the smoke?” queried the 
crowd. 

“That sight would be grand, if the horses were out,” 
exclaimed Jane, who was with the gathering crowd on 
the sidewalk. 

“It’s just awful!” answered Sallie. 

Suddenly out of the haze of the flame-lit smoke 
appeared Tim and Ned, leading the frenzied horses* — 
prancing — snorting — lunging. 

“Hold on!” 

“Help ’em!” 

“Blindfold ’em!” 

“Look out!” were the cries that startled the fright- 
ened creatures. V'dth wild lunges, thev broke loose, 
throwing the boys down, and fled, like maniacs, back 
into the burning stable. 

“Oh! We must save them!” cried Ned, scrambling 
to his feet, and starting back. 


Coffin Ftaifs : thf story of janf m'grfgor 

“No! No!” 

“Stop! Stop!” 

“It’s murder!” 

“It’s sure death!” and a dozen strong hands pulled 
them out of doors, just as the burning hay fell, and 
wrapped the front stall in a sheet of flame. 

“That is terrible!’ cried Jane. 

“It’s just too awful! I wish I hadn’t come,” cried 
Sallie, starting to run down the sidewalk, and stum- 
bling against a large man who was running and puffing. 

“There he is,” cried a voice; “Tom Grimes, himself.” 

“Where’s my blacks? Are they out?” Nobody ans- 
wered. “Five hundred dollars to the man who gets 
them out.” 

Nobody moved. Above the roar of the flames arose 
the screaming whinnies of the horses, almost human 
m their agony. The crowd fell back from the in- 
creasing heat. 

“Oh, my horses! My poor horses!” said Mr. Grimes, 
as he heard their frenzied cries. 

A crash, a crackle, and a roar of flames drowned 
the voice of man and beast, as falling hay and timbers 
flamed out with fiercer heat, and a shower of sparks 
flew up. Yellow and orange and amethyst, the surg- 
ing billows of living flame leaped and raged. Orange 
and russet and purple, the smoke wreathed and twisted, 
and rose in heavy masses to the clouds. 

“Took at him!” 

“Catch him!” 

“Back; give him air!” 

“It’s father! Oh! He’s got another fit!” And Mr. 
Grimes was carried back and laid on the grass. 

“Run for a doctor, somebody, quick!” 

“Boys, bring some water. Hurry up!” 


120 


{‘klDE GOkTH before; DEStRUCTlOlsr 

The cro'wd gave way as the doctor came. Some one 
asked: “Is he dead?” 

“Yes, dead. 1 told him a month ago, that if he did 
not quit using tobacco, some sudden excitement would 
kill him" 

The gieat week of all the year came again at Eudora. 
Commencement was over. Jane had fulfilled h6r pre- 
diction — taken the three years’ course in two years, and 
received her diploma. Laura, Lucy, Nellie, Elsie and 
Irene, Philip and Cyrus, all graduated. George and 
Charlie, Minnie, Sallie and Mattie Dorson would be 
back another year. But poor Ned had seen his last 
school days. Elsie Clark had secured a place to teacli 
in the Eudora schools the following winter. The other 
graduates and ■ students had scattered to their various 
homes, and the town settled down to its summer quiet. 

After the death of Mr. Grimes, it was found that 
debts and losses had swallowed up the property. Mrs. 
Grimes took boarders to support herself and little girls, 
hut thought Ned ought to make his own way. He 
felt above working as a day laborer, and was looking 
for a position, with a good salary. He had yet to 
learn the lesson that such a position can be secured 
only by years spent, either in hard study, or in practi- 
'^ally learning a business. Ned applied, in vain, for a 
chance to learn a business, for his townsmen knew his 
habits. Then he went to the city, and vainly searched, 
day after day, for a job, for smoking and other bad 
habits had left their tell tale traces on his face. 
At last, however, he found a merchant who was 
anxious for a boy to sweep the store, and do other rough 
work. It was not to Ned’s liking, but he was out of 
money. The merchant asked his address, and where he 
had attended school, and Sunday school, and told him 
t^ return Monday morning. Then he was told he was 


I2I 


COFFIN NAILS : 1'HE S'TORY OF JANF m'GRFGOR 

not wanted, and he wrote to his mother for money to go 
nome. He was puzzled to know why the merchant, who 
appeared anxious for a boy, changed his mind by Mon- 
day. But the fact was that his pastor and the President 
of the Seminary each received a letter, as pastor and 
teachers often do, containing many questions, among 
others, these: 

“Do you know Ned Grimes? Is he reliable? Is he 
industrious? Is he truthful? Does he drink? Does he 
gamble? Does he smoke? Does he swear? Was he 
studious in school? What sort of company does he 
keep?” 

Of course Ned’s friends answered as favorably as 
they could, without violating the truth ; but in his case, 
the truth did not satisfy the merchant. 

Not long afterwards Ned saw in the newspapers that 
ohicers of the United States navy would soon be in Chi- 
cago to secure recruits to be trained in the naval school. 
So Ned went to Chicago, and applied for admittance, 
nnd was taken to the surgeon for a physical examina- 
tion. After surveying Ned critically, he began asking 
questions, which were answered satisfactorily until he 
asked: “Do you use tobacco?” As we all know, Ned 
was untruthful, and answered : “No, sir.” 

“No need of lying about it, your teeth betray you. 
You can go. Tobacco-using boys cannot endure hard 
ships as well as those who do not use it, and the gov- 
ernment can not afford to educate them.” 

If Ned had been struck in the face, he would not have 
been more surprised, so he took the first train for home. 

It happened that his seatmate on the train was the 
Congressman from their district. When he found who 
Ned was, and learned from him of his father’s sudden 
death, he was much shocked. . Tom Grimes had been 
his friend, and being a local politician, had helped much 


122 


PRIDE GOETH BEEORE destruction 

in his election. He handed his newspaper to Ned, and 
sat perplexing himself over his political problem. He 
was then on his way to Eudora to gH Tom Grimes to 
work for his re-election. 

Ned found an item in the paper stating that a young 
cadet from that district had just graduated from West 
Point, and that his successor had not yet been appointed. 
He sho'wed it to his new friend, and asked who appoint- 
ed the cadets. 

‘T do, of course,” he replied, “and I had come near 
forgetting it.” Ned told him of his experience at Chica- 
go, and asked : 

“Do you think there is any chance for me? May be 
they wouldn’t be so particular there. Gen. Grant learned 
to use tobacco at West Point.” 

“I don’t know,” was the reply. “I expect there will 
be a dozen boys applying for the place.” The politician 
remembered that Eudora was a closely contested pre- 
cinct, and wondered if the appointment of his old friend’s 
son would not secure the votes of his townsmen. So 
Ned received the appointment, and he decided to be a 
man. He got out his books, and, with Prof. Felton’s 
help, he studied for the entrance examination. The day 
he started he threw away his cigars, and cleaned up his 
teeth. 

It was raining steadily when Ned reached West Point. 
As he passed the barracks, he saw a young cadet march- 
ing slowly back and forth in the rain, with a soldier 
m.arching behind him, who prodded him occasionally 
with his bayonet. Presently that soldier was relieved by 
another, who also kept the cadet constantly marching. 
Ned asked an explanation, and was told that the cadet 
had been guilty of using tobacco, and was kept march- 
ing in the rain all day and all night, as a punishment. 
This made Ned fearful; but when asked if he used to- 


123 


COFFIN nails: the story of jane MCGREGOR 

bacco, he. honestly replied: ‘‘I used to, but I quit.” 
The surgeon put his ear to Ned’s heart, then made an 
examination with an instrument. 

“You did not quit soon enough,” he remarked, “you 
must have smoked excessively while you did smoke. 
You already have the tobacco heart. You can never 
stand the strain of military life. That will do, your 
Congressman will have to appoint another boy.” 

Ned was discouraged, and somewhat frightened, but 
before night he was smoking again. He was so humili- 
ated, however, that, on his return home, he did what 
odd jobs he could get, and, at length they took him as 
an apprentice at the machine shops. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


His Reward. 


L et us go back to commencement day at Eudora. 
Eucy was to go again to spend the summer with 
her aunt. But she avoided the long wait at the 
lonely junction, by going home with one of her country 
schoolmates to spend the night. The next day she took 
a train to Havana, for she had decided to enjoy her first 
ride on a steamboat, down the Illinois river. The boat 
was expected some time that afternoon, for boats are 
uncertain, and she stopped at the one little hotel. Sand, 
sand, everywhere. Wagons coming up the one street of 
the little town ploughed slowly through six inches of 
sand, Even the hotel showed the fallacy of building on 


tils RKWARii 

the sand, tor it had settled in all manner of contradictory 
angles. One floor slanted this way, and another that 
way. The walls looked as if they were trying to cour- 
tesy to some august personage, while the ceilings seemed 
to have lost their equanimity. Weary of gazing through 
windows askew, her thoughts turned inward. But they 
were not happy thoughts. She had prepared herself for 
teaching, and she hoped to do faithful work, but she well 
knew that it was hard, thankless work, and she dreaded 
to begin again, among strangers. She would miss her 
school friends sadly. And Philip^ — probably she would 
never see him again, and it would be best that she should 
not. She remembered that he had not even bidden her 
goodbye. He had scarcely spoken to her since that mem- 
oral)le debate, only a few commonplace remarks when 
necessity required it in their class work. In fact, he had 
seldom spoken to any of the girls, and had taken littlt 
part in anything outside of his classes. To divert her 
mind from discouragements she walked down the sandy 
slope to the river. She watched the steady heave and 
swash of the water, the reflection of the deep green 
woods on the opposite shore, and the shoals of pink fish 
swimming past her feet — until she heard the whistle of 
the boat. As she came down again to embark, a crowd 
of men and boys, idle curiosity seekers, jostled past her. 

“Good afternoon. Miss Lambert,” She looked up, 
startled, as Philip Dayton took her satchel, saying: “Let 
me assist you through the crowd.” He helped her over 
tlie plank, and up the stairway, and seated her in the 
cabin, saving “I will see to your trunk, give yourself 
no anxiety.” 

The cabin was sultry, and, after awhile, Lucy followed 
the other passengers to the deck. She saw nothing of 
P^u'lin. a^^d did no^ know whether he was on the boat, or 
whether he got off again at Havana. She seated herself 


cioFFiN UAihs: Tiit story m^orb:gor 

the railing, at the stern, where the deck was par- 
tially secluded by a pile of baggage. The swift strokes 
of the giant stern wheel worked the water into a seething 
mass winch rolled backward, in little foam-crested bil- 
lows, leaving a long white ripple behind. There was a 
fascination m watching one wave chase another. 

“May I intrude on your revery?” asked a low, deep 
voice behind her. She had no need to turn, to know who 
asked the question, and she answered, “Certainly.” Philip 
seated himself at her side. Was it dizziness from look- 
ing at the water that caused that feeling of faintness at 
Lucy’s heart ? Philip noted her eyes droop, and her face 
grow white. 

“Lucy, I have a story to tell you,” he said, quietly. 
The old struggle between love and duty began to agi- 
tate her, but she turned toward him with a questioning 
look. 

“This tobacco question,” he continued, “has put a 
strange barrier between us. I began chewing tobacco 
when a boy, but used it sparingly for several years, to 
hide the fact from my parents. Mother objected when 
she did learn it, but I told her that I was only following 
father’s example. When I grew up, and earned my own 
money, I both chewed and smoked excessively. I finally 
saved up money, and came to Eudora. Prof. Porter’s 
sudden death set me to thinking seriously, and when you 
girls came out so boldly against tobacco, I decided to 
quit. Your society had become very pleasant to me, and 
T was willing to please you, as well as to satisfy my own 
conscience,” he said, looking down into the face that was 
watching him so eagerly. “I said nothing to any one 
about it, and, for a day or two, I succeeded. Then my 
nead ached, and I became so nervous, and my memory 
was so uncertain, that I could not study. I asked Dr. 
advice, and he said that tobacco hurt some peo- 

xa6 


HIS REWARD 


pis, and some it didn’t hurt, and where it was difficult to 
break tiie habit, that it was more of a strain on the ner- 
vous system to quit than to go on using it moderately. 
So I concluded to take his advice, for I thought that per- 
haps your anti-tobacco society would be short lived. You 
rememljcr that evening in the music room, Lucy?” 

“Certainly.” 

“Well, I was disheartened, but when I pondered over 
your looks and tones, I felt that you cared for me, and 
that, with you, it was a struggle between love and con- 
science. I reflected that Dr. Grimes used tobacco him- 
self, and was prejudiced in its favor. So I went to Dr. 
Hawley. He told me that I was naturally of a nervous 
temperament, and that tobacco had seriously affected my 
nervous system. He advised me to gradually reduce the 
amount used, and not to try to quit entirely until school 
closed, as the double strain of the sudden change and 
hard study would be severe. So, after school was out, 

1 took my gun and camping outfit, and started for Mich- 
igan, determined to make a man of myself. Having left 
my tobacco behind, I hired a Ijoatman to land me in die 
forest, on the lonliest part of the lake shore, and to re- 
turn for me in three weeks. 

“I got along fairly well the first day, arranging my 
tent, and studying Botany in the woods. With evening 
came a longing for my cigar. I was too uneasy to read, 
and I paced back and forth until I was so weary that, 
when I lay down I slept soundly. Morning found me 
with a dull headache, nervous and cross. I ate a wann 
breakfast and tried to fish, but was too restless. So I 
took my gun and tried the woods again, but the beauty 
of the flowers, and the antics of the squirrels had lost 
their interest. By sheer force of will I kept on trying to 
hunt till nearly night, although I was so nervous I could 
not shoot straight. But the craving for tobaccO' kept 


127 


COFI^IN NAILS : the story OE JANE m'GREGOR 

growing stronger. Supper did not satisfy me. Weary 
«.iS X W ixSj 1 could neither sleep, nor lie quiet, but paced 
around my tent nearly aU night. Morning found me 
dizzy and weak, with no appetite. I forced myself to 
eat a little, and again tried to hunt. But the blood rush- 
ed to my head, and I grew bewildered. I imagined that 
I was being hunted — that something was pursuing me. 
Every stump seemed a wild beast', every bush seemed to 
hide an enemy. It was with the greatest difficulty that 
I found my way back to my tent. I threw myself on my 
blanket, and I hope I may never suffer such another 
night. I loathed food, and, though my tongue was 
parched with thirst, water sickened me. My head throb- 
bed as if it would burst. I saw all imaginable things 
that were horrible and ugly. Devils and witches danced 
about me. Slimy reptiles wound themselves around my 
limbs, but I was powerless to shake them off.” 

“Oh, Philip! How terrible! That was as bad as de- 
1 ilium tremens.” 

“It was tobacco delirum. The next morning I was 
sane, but weak, and my hands shook like aspen leaves, 
and m\' tongue was parched and swollen. When at 
length I could swallow water without nausea, my suffer- 
ings abated, and my appetite slowly returned, but the 
cravin^; for tobacco returned also. As my strength in- 
cren'^'.jd, and I could occupy my time with hunting, I 
g’ adually overcame it. When the boatman came for me, 
I had regained my health and weight. I returned home, 
and hired out to work for a man who did not use tobacco, 
that T might be as free from temnta^ion as ])o-ssible.” 

'‘Ob. Pbibi^! To ^bink how much it cost you,” and 
there were tears in the brown eyes that were watching 
him so intently. “And to suffer so, there alone! Why 
didn’t you stay with your friends, where some onp* 
could have cared for you?’' ’ 

taS 


HIS REWARD 


“To the shame of our civilization,” he answered, 
“there is scarcely a place, except in the forest, or behind 
prison bars, where a man can i>e free from the tempting 
lumes of that vile stuff. But 1 had not expected to 
suffer so severely, and I wondered if, after all. Dr. 
Grimes was correct, and the strain of giving up tobacco 
would injure me more than continuing its use? 

“So, on my return, I found a physician in Chicago 
who was said to be noted as a specialist along that line, 
and described my case. He told me that he had cured 
hundreds of tobacco users, and treated many cases as 
severe as mine, and that the disuse of tobacco did fre- 
quently cause a variety of delirium similar to delirium 
tremens. He said : ‘All tobacco users do not suffer 
as you did, on making the change. It is only those of 
excitable, nervous temperaments, who have used to- 
bacco excessively, and particularly those whose 
parents have' also used it.’ I asked him if it would 
have been better in that case to have kept on using it. 
He replied: ‘No, indeed! The severity of your delirium 
is an index of the severity of the injury already done 
to your brain and nerves. If you had kept on using it, 
you would have suffered, some time, from insanity, 
paralysis or softening of the brain. The delirium is 
nature’s reaction. Liquors, opium and tobacco, each 
cause a separate kind of delirium, but that of tobacco 
most nearly resembles that of opium. When we cure a 
patient of the opium habit, we nearly always have a 
siege of the delirium to contend with. Tobacco and 
opium users seldom know how much these narcotics 
have injured them, till they try to give them up.’ 

“He then told me of a voting man of nervous temper- 
nrnpnt, w^o became violently delirious on giving up 
tobacco. His friends insisted on his return to the habit, 
when he became rational. He kept on using it, and, in 


COFFIN NAIFS : THF STORY OF JANF m'GRFGOR 

a few years became permanently insane. Another man, 
on being deprived of his tobacco, went into spasms, and 
his tongue became so stiff it protruded from his mouth, 
but tobacco was kept from him, and he entirely re- 
covered. 

“The doctor prescribed a remedy to hasten the 
cleansing of the tobacco poison out of my system, and 
told me that time would do the rest, and that I would 
be stronger than before. 

“When I returned to school, I longed to go to you 
and tell you of my victory; but I dared not boast too 
soon. I found board, where there were no smokers to 

tempt me, but every whiff of smoke oil the street 

brought bad: a touch of tlie old craving, for several 
months. At length the time came when tobacco fumes 
brought no temptation. But I was not yet sure enough 
of myself to speak to you. After seeing your brave 
fight against the evil, I preferred to suffer, rather than 
to see you humiliated by my fall, in case I should 
again be overcome by my old habit. I have waited a 

whole year, and feel now, that, with God’s help, I 

can conquer.” 

For a moment therevwas silence. Lucy’s gaze had 
fallen to the troubled waters. 

“Lucy, may I have my reward?” She laid her hand 
in his, and clasping it in both his own, he raised it to 
his lips. Presently he whispered, “Let me look into 
your eyes, dear.” She raised them to his, swimming 
in tears, saying: “How you have suffered • for my 
sake.” 

“Not for your sake only, but for my own, that I may 
be a man, and not a slave.” And he bent forward and 
kissed her. 

The sun was setting, apparently in the river, and 


130 


ms REWARD 


the golden rays, shimmering down the stream, gilded 
the top of every wavelet. 

‘,‘W'nat a beautiful sunset,” exclaimed Philip, “See 
that path of shingled gold, leading up the river to the 
setting sun.” 

“Yes, it gilds every wave, on and on, as though it 
reached the very portals of heaven.” 

“We will take it as the omen of our lives, growing 
brighter unto the perfect day.” They watched the pink 
reflections of the sunset clouds on the ripples, the green 
of the trees mirrored on the stiller water near the shore, 
and the black shadows underneath the banks. But the 
pink paled to pearly white, while mirrored green, and 
shadows black, faded into grey. 

“I did not know before that shadows could fade,” • 
said Lucy. 

“It has seemed sometimes as though ours never would 
fade, but look”' — as the rising moon burst out from 
behind a bar of cloud — “yonder is the silver lining, and 
every ripple has caught a gleam.” 

Lucy was to visit her old friend, Mrs. Sutton, again, 
and she told Philip of her first visit there, and her 
strange visitor, and the stranger silence of the family 
concerning it. 

“Probably it was some pet baboon,” he replied, “and 
they were not aware that it had entered your room. 

I would ask an explanation before retiring tonight.” 

After several hours’ ride, they entered the broad 
sweep of the Mississippi, and at length the lights began 
to’ gleam like stars along the river bluff, the outlines of 
a city stood out in the moonlight, and tlic boat puffed 
and groaned as it swung around to the wharf. Philip 
accompanied her tO' Mrs. Sutton's carriage and bade 
her good-bye. 

Lucy passed another pleasant evening, and again she 


coma NAl^S i YKK SYOKV of JANK M'CBSSOit 

was siiowii to the elegant guest chamber, and still she 
liaU luunci no htting uppoii unity to ask about the mys- 
teiy. Mrs. ;:5Utton taiKed busily until she said good 
nignt and clpsed the door, lyucy locked her room, and 
retired, but so tull ot happy thoughts was her mind, 
that she forgot her fears. Mingled with her happiness 
was a feeling ot confusion — that feeling of being at 
sea without a rudder, which w© have when our plans 
are overturned, and we hardly know where to begin to 
plan life over agaim Finally she slept — and awoke! 
Hark! Was that the same angry grunt she heard a 
year ago? or was it her imagination? Again she 
heard it, low and muffled at first, as though some dis- 
tance away. Then she heard those same shambling 
steps, overhead, and occasionally another grunt. Spring- 
ing out of bed, she turned on the liglir, and hastily 
dressed. The shambling steps were coming down the 
hall — they had stopped at her door — there was a fum- 
bling at the lock. Her heart beat fast, she was all 
atremble. Then the steps retreated down the hall. She 
heard other steps, and voices — the sound of a scuffle, 
fierce cries, and angry words. Then a knock on her 
door, and Mrs. Sutton’s voice saying, “Lucy, do not 
be frightened.’’ Hastily unfastening the door, she ad- 
mitted her friend. 

“O, Mrs. Sutton! What has happened?” 

“It is a lunatic, an escaped lunatic.” 

“How did he get in here?” 

“He is kept here in the attic. Occasionally a servant 
leaves his door unlocked, and he comes down. Why, 
Lucy, you are trembling like a leaf. Did he try to open 
your door ?” j 

“Yes, but it was locked.” 

“It was enough to frighten yon. I am sorry it has 
occurred.” Seeing the question in Lucy’s face which 


132 


HIS re;ward 


she leared to ask, she explained: “1 keep him here 
because he is my son. We seldom speak of him, only 
to our nearest friends. Would you like me to sleep 
with you the rest of the night?” 

“Yes, if you please. I fear I should not sleep much 
alone.” 

Then Mrs. Sutton told her sad story. “My boy was 
a bright, sweet child, but when he was quite small, some 
bad boys taught him to chew tobacco. They gave it 
to him a little at a time at first, so that it did not make 
him very sick. The habit had quite a hold on him be- 
we found it out. Then we t' lui every way to 
break him, but in vain. We saw that it was injuring 
him, and as a last resprt, we locked him in an upper 
room for several months. ^ The weather was warm, and 
we could not close the windows, but we had them heav- 
ily barred. He had not been out long till I learned he 
was using it again. In fact, he had never quit. Those 
bad boys came at night and threw a string up to him, 
and they kept coming, keeping him ‘supplied by tying 
tobacco on the end of the string, so he could pull it up, 
and he kept up the habit. After a few years he became 
insane. They said at the asylum that his insanity was 
caused by his chewing tobacco when so young. He 
improved under their treatment, and they finally dis- 
charged him as cured. In spite of all my watching and 
warning, in a few months he was chewing again, and 
his insanity returned. At length he was pronounced 
incurable; but he had never forgotten me, and they said 
that, at times he begged pitifully to see me. So I 
brought him home. He is not violent, but he is a per- 
fect wreck, body and mind, and has no more sense of 
propriety than an animal ; so we keep him locked up.” 

“Oh, how sad !” said Lucy. “You have had so much 
trouble. It seems to me almost as sad as death.” 


133 


COFFIN NAIIyS : THE story OF JANE M^'CREGOR 

‘It is worse than death. I would not have suffered 
nearly so much if I had buried my boy in innocent 
childhood.” 


CHAPTER XV. 
The Cost of Fame. 


H enry CARSON was practicing law in Peoria. 

His father’s wealth and influence gave him a start, 
but his winning 'manner and eloquent pleadings were 
fast gaining him a good practice. Flossy was pretty 
and sociable, and used her social qualities to promote 
her husband’s interests. 

Joe Blazer had been, for awhile a clerk in a grocery 
store, but lost his position. So he persuaded his father 
to help him start a tobacco shop. A crowd of smoking 
loafers gathered there every evening. Henry sometimes 
dropped in, too, for a sociable smoke, and there we find 
him. 

“Hello, old boy!” cried Joe. “How goes it?” 
“Pretty well for a fellow that’s just out of the pen.” 
“Had you in the pen, did they? How’s that?” 

“Let’s have a cigar, and I’ll tell you some news.” 
“Here’s the latest brand out, finest flavor you ever 
smoked.” 


134 


THE COST OE EAME. 


Henry bought a box, and treated the crowd. Several 
of them were Germans, and, as there were many of that 
nationality in the city, several of whom were wealthy, 
he was anxious to win their favor. After some flatter- 
ing comments about the cigars, Henry said: “I had 
to go up to Joliet on business for one of my clients, and 
thought I would take a run through the pen, and whom 
do you think I found there?” 

“Blame me, if I know!” 

“None other than our old friend, Josiah Jenkins.” 

“I knew he was an old hypocrite! But really I didn’t 
look for him to land there so soon. What had he dorie^” 

“I asked the superintendent about him, and he said 
he was sent up for horse-stealing.” 

“I knew he was mean as a horse-thief, but he was 
loo cowardly.” 

“They say he claims to be mighty pious, and that it 
was all a mistake. You know he was always blowing 
about that magic lantern he was going to have some day. 
Well, he got hold of one, and an old horse and buggy, 
some way, and was going about, giving shows. One 
day, in a freshet, he drove into a branch where the 
bridge was washed out, and drowned his horse. He 
jumped ashore and walked, till he found a horse hitched 
by the road. He took it and started back to try to pull 
his buggy out, and get his lantern, so he could go and 
give his show. He claims that he intended to take it 
back, but they sent him to the pen, all the same.” 

“Served him, right! All but his taking it back!” 

“He gave them a false name,” continued Henry, “and 
sent an item to the Eudora Times about their finding 
his horse and buggy washed down the creek, and that 
probably he was drowned.” 

“Just like him! Do you know, I always suspected 
he stole that coffin?” 


135 


CO^^'IN NAIIvS : THE STORY OR JANE MCGREGOR 

“Didn’t I ever tell you I discovered that?” 

“Not that I ever heard of.” 

“Well, the next summer, I came across some pieces 
of our coffin in the ashes of that fire the skaters had in 
the woods that night. It was mostly burned up, but 
there was a corner left.” 

“I reckoned he was too lazy to tote that down there.” 

“Well, he evidently did it, and carried one from the 
shop to the grave-yard, so we would be caught up for 
stealing.” 

“And now the pious old hypocrite got his dues. I 
never could understand how that other coffin got there, 
and what come of our’n. How did you get out of it so 
slick, Henry, when Jim and me got ousted?” 

“Well, I own up I played a dirty trick on you boys. 
Turning the clock up was my scheme. I knew Josiah 
would raise a racket, and tell that it struck ten, and then, 
when we lit out of there I ran for the depot, and caught 
that ten o’clock train, and proved an alibi by the agent. 
It was treating you fellows mean, but I knew you did 
not care for school, and I wanted to enter the law, and 
knew it would hardly do for me to be turned out.” 

“No, I was glad to get out of school, but it was a 
scurvy trick.” 

“You fellows seem to be having a good story all to 
yourselves,” said one of the smokers. 

“Tell ’em the whole yarn, Henry, you’re such a 
yarner.” 

So Henry told the whole story of Josiah’s peculiarities 
and the tricks the boys played on him, with much elab- 
oration. It was greeted with loud guffaws of laughter 
by the crowd, especially by the Germans. One of them, 
a pompous man, named Smidt, whom Henry knew by 
sight, seemed particularly pleased. 

Dat ish goot ! Dat ish goot ! Dem bious hypocrites 

136 


THE COST OF FAME. 


in de ben; dat ish goot! Dem bious Sabbat School 
beobles is all hypocrites. Dey is bious for de money.” 
Joe had grown callous, but Henry winced at this sneer 
at goodness. Surely his mother was not a hypocrite, 
feigning righteousness for mercenary motives. But he 
was too selfish and cowardly to deny the assertion, or 
to vindicate the sincerity of his mother's faith in such 
a crowd. 

“Dat ish von goot shtory. Joe, bring oot some beer, 
dish shmoke make mine droat dry ash bowder.” 

“Yes, Joe, let’s have a bottle,’’ chimed in Henry. Joe 
looked carefully around at the crowd, then brought out 
the drink, saying: “You fellows keep dark about this, 
now; the old man won’t furnish me the tin to run this 
store, if he knows I sell wet goods.” 

“Vash you dat lawyer vot keepsh aboove de German 
Bank?” asked Smidt, as he was about to leave. 

“Yes, that is my office.” 

“I coom oop und see you aboot soom pisiness soom 
day.” 

“Thank you, I will be glad to see you.” 

“Dat vash von goot shtory. Coom doon to de Bloom- 
garten soom Soonday, und tells it to de poys. Blenty 
goot beer, blenty goot shmoke, goot time. You tell 
von goot shtory, coom, coom doon.” 

“All right, thank you.” Unlikely as it seems, the 
brilliant young lawyer accepted the invitation, and be- 
came a frequent visitor at the German beer garden. 

There was a large population of wealthy Germans 
in Peoria, the majority of whom were atheists, and many 
of whom were brewers. They were watching for a 
lawyer who could be moulded to their pattern, and they 
seemed to fancy Henry. With his ready wit and nat- 
ural ability, he catered to their tastes with flattering 
speeches, and funny stories, at their Sunday picnics, and 


137 


COI^FIN NAII.S : the: STORY OR JANE: m'GREGOR 

lX)litical meetings, until his head was turned by their 
vociferous applause. 

He managed to keep his parents in ignorance of his 
\dsits to the beer gardens, but they heard of his speeches 
at the Sunday picnics, and his mother expostulated with 
hifn, warning him that his morals would be ruined by 
such low companionship. He laughingly told her that 
he had an object in view. The truth was that for years 
tobacco and selfishness had been gradually stupefying 
his moral nature, until his conscience was wellnigh 
paralyzed. But he had enough love left for his mother 
to try to hide his faults from her, and she was proud of 
her \)oy, who used to be good, as well as bright. 

Autumn brought again that great hot bed of political 
ferment, the annual election. Henry Carson had an- 
nounced himself as a candidate for nomination to the 
office of county attorney. 

Convention hall was a confusion of buzzing voices. 
Groups of men talked excitedly, while candidates and 
their friends hurried anxiously from one group to an- 
other, passing tickets, or pleading for votes, and button- 
holing this man, or giving that one a friendly slap on 
the shoulder. Indeed they were growing so anxious 
that they forgot to ask politely after the health of the 
wife and the little folks. And Henry was among them, 
but he had not forgotten to be genial and polite. 

“And how does your road case go?” he asked of a 
group of country delegates, after speaking pleasantly 
to each one. 

“Oh, it has been put off to another term of court. I 
am afraid they’ll dilly-dally till we’ll lose our road.” 

“That’s too bad. If I had been on that case, I would 
have pushed it through. If there is anything a farmer 
needs, it is a good road. I suppose you folks know I 
am a candidate,” and handing out some cards, he was 

138 i 


THE COST OE FAME. 


over button-holing the Coal Creek delegation, inquiring 
if their new bridge was done, as he passed the cigars 
around. 

“And I suppose you are all working for Jones tor 
sheriff?” he continued. 

“I reckon we are; he’s from our parts. How is he 
going to run?” 

“It’s a little doubtful. Now, Jones will make a num- 
ber one sheriff, but some folks don’t seem to know, or 
care. Now, here are the Boonville and Wolf Creek fo'ks, 
all they are thinking of is Brown for clerk. I suppose 
you are all going to give me a lilt todav?” 

“Some of us will,” said one; “L could not answer 
for all.” 

“Now, see here, if you will do me the favor, I will 
get both of those delegations solid for Jones.” 

The gavel rapped again and again, and the chairman 
at length succeeded in obtaining a semblance of order. 
But all through the appoiiumer.t of committees, and the 
nominations, and balloting, men were passing back an<i 
forth, sometimes whisp.^ring, sometimes talking so loudly 
that the chairman had to rap for order. 

There was a back stair wav to the hall, and, occasion- 
ally, men could be seen parsing down by twos and 
threes, and wiping their monchv. or smoking cigars as 
they came back. Indeed, the room became dense with 
smoke, and several of those not accisromcd to it became 
so sick that they were obliged to leave the room, and 
some were so sick that thev con’d not return. No 
wonder that so many self-respecting men became dis- 
gusted with politics. 

Henry had been observed by his father to take a couple 
of men down the stairway, and return, puffing cigars. 
He called his son aside. “See here, my boy, you will do 


139 


COFI^IN NAII.S : THE STORY OE JANE m'GREGOR 

yourself more harm than good, if you begin treating 
with liquor.” 

“Why, father, I just went down to get a new supply 
of cigars.” 

“Well, those country delegates know there is a sa- 
loon down there, and I saw them eyeing you. Better 
stay here, or you will lose as many votes as your cigars 
will gain.” 

Not long after that, Henry whispered a few words 
to Smidt, who replied with a knowing nod. And, as 
the excitement increased, Smidt took little crowds of 
Germans — and some who were not Germans — down to 
the saloon, and treated them with Carson’s .beer, talking 
volubly in German. What he said can be surmised by 
what he said to a couple of Irishmen: 

“Ven ve gets him in dere, ve do vot ve vants mit him.” 

Henry waited with feverish anxiety while the votes 
were counted, and when it was announced that Henry 
Carson was nominated for attorney, some one moved 
that it be made unanimous. The cries, “speech!” 
“speech!” were heard all over the room. Stimulated by 
the excitement and incessant smoking, and perhaps by 
something stronger, young Carson sprang to his feet, 
and expressed his thanks for the honor conferred, and 
poured forth an enthusiastic speech, full of that ready 
wit, and eloquent invective that catches the popular ear. 
He was greeted with a hearty burst of applause from 
the whole convention. 

That evening Flossy waited supper till darH but 
Henry did not come, and at last she and Lennie ate 
alone. One of the neighbors dropped in for a chat, and 
told her the news of Henry’s nomination, and that there 
was to be political speaking that night, and she need not 
look for Henry home till that was over. She was proud 
of his success, and anxious to congratulate him, and 


140 


THE COST OF FAME. 


she sat up, waiting, until at length she became anxious 
Again and again she went to the door and listened, untij 
she became worried lest some accident had happened* 
At last she heard some one, and went to the door, but 
started back when she opened it. It was Henry, but so 
pale, and strange looking, and two men, one holding him 
up by either arm. 

“Good evening, ma’am; don’t be frightened; he isn’t 
hurt,” said one of them, and they turned and went away. 

“What is the matter, Henry?” asked Flossy, anx- 
iously, putting her arm around him to lead him in. He 
jerked away from her with a boisterous laugh, making 
«iome incoherent answer, as he staggered in, and leaned 
against the wall. She saw that he was drunk, and kept 
out of his way, as he reeled about, until he tumbled down 
on the sofa and fell asleep. 

Flossy sat down and took a big cry. To think that this 
mumbling, staggering creature was the handsome hus- 
band, of whom she was so proud a few hours ago. She 
had prided herself on not being one of those temperance 
fanatics who thought it a sin to drink an occasional glass 
of wine or beer. She thought her husband was a gentle- 
man who had the sense to stop when he had drank 
enough. It was humiliating that he had drank to excess, 
and made a dog of himself. Of course the newspapers 
would publish it, they always publish everything a can- 
didate does, if it is nothing worse than stubbing his toe. 

The next morning, Henry awoke with a dull head- 
ache, to find himself on the sofa. Slowly the recollec- 
tion of the evening’s revelry came back. He roused up, 
and saw in the mirror a dirty face, and disordered cloth- 
ing, and felt weak and nerveless as though he had been 
sick a week. With shame and disgust, he resolved to be 
careful in the future that such excess should neVer recur. 
It did not occur to him that his only safety lay in signing 

141 


COFFIN nails: THF story of JANL M GREGOR 

a total abstinence pledge. His boon companions kep! 
the matter a secret, so that it did not even reach the ears 
of his parents, and he was soon found in his office, re- 
ceiving congratulations. 

‘‘I understand that Henry was using liquor the other 
day at the convention,” said an old friend from the 
country, to Mr. Carson. 

“No, I think not. I cautioned him not to do it, and 
told him that I would not furnish a cent for liquors, and 
he has no money to spare. He left the room but once 
during the convention, and he said that was only to get 
a new supply of cigars. I would rather see him beaten, 
than elected by bribery.” 

“But is not treating to cigars bribery, too?” 

“To tell the truth, I suppose it is, but it is so custom- 
ary, no one looks at it that way.” 

Joe must have found a tobacco store quite lucrative, 
for he had already paid back the money loaned him by 
his father, and had moved into a larger building, with 
the sign, “Saloon,” above his door. Gossips — for there 
are men gossips, as well as women gossips — intimated 
that Smidt, one of the brewing firm of Smide & Bom- 
heiger, had something to do with the change. There we 
find Henry Carson a few days after his nomination. 

“Now, Joe,” he was saying, “I want a good barrel, 
none of your cheap diluted stuff, and if that gives out, 
roll out another. And don’t spare the beer, either. 
They say Sharp is spending money like water. But now 
I am into it, I am not going to be beaten, cost what it 
may.” 

“But I thought your old dad said he wouldn’t fork 
over the money for anything stronger than cigars.” 

“So he did, and he won’t, either ; but Smidt is backing 
me. He- would do anything rather than have the party 
beaten. So don’t you worry, just keep a straight ac- 


142 


THE COST OE FAME. 


count, and electioneer strong for me, if you have to keep 
every tough in the ward boozy till election’s over.” 

“Well, how goes the canvass?” asked Henry, of Smidt, 
as he met him on the street, one evening. 

“No goot, no goot. Dot Sharp he coom down to 
Reichter’s, and he shmoke and zhoke und trink init the 
boys, und dey say : ‘Sharp goot fellow, goot fellow, ve 
vote mit Sharp.’ Ven Myers say,‘Dhrinksoom Carson’s 
beer, und vote mit Carson,’ dey no dhrink, und dey say : 
‘Carson von bloated ooper ten, he sthuck oop, he no 
dhrink mit de poys, he no zhoke mit the poys.* Vy you 
not coom doon, Carson, und dhrink mit de poys? Coom 
(loon, ve no vant you peaten.” And so, arm in arm, they 
made they way down toward the river — through streets 
so foul that, were they not constantly disinfected by the 
strong smell of onions ard u'llc, titcy woulc Iki'. o b’('d 
disease — and entered, behind the screened doors of a sa 
loon. There they found a motley throng, old and young, 
Irish, German, and American. Carson was introduced 
to the crowd, shaking hands as cordially with every old 
toper, as though he was a brother. 

“This is the jolliest set I ever met,” called Henry, 
^‘come up, boys, come up, what will you have?” And 
then he treated the crowd, and cracked rough jokes, 
treated them to cigars, also, and smoked with them, and 
told nuestionable stories. Then thev called for a speech, 
and, jumping on a chair, he gave them a grandiloquent 
liarangue. His brain was sufficiently muddled to de- 
fraud his sneech of logic, but the coarse wit that spiced it 
pleased the drunken rabble. He finished with an appeal 
for their votes, and they answered with rousing cheers 
and promises. But this was only one saloon, and only a 
cnn-inle nif>-ht. Was his office worth what it cost? 

Two years passed away. The habits and companion- 
ships formed during the political campaign, were not 


COI^FIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE m'GREGOR 

easily thrown off. Time and again Henry Carson re- 
turned home intoxicated, in vain his parents plead with 
him. In vain Flossy, coaxed and scolded. 

Henry’s German friends were satisfied with the way 
in which he managed to elude all attempts to enforce the 
laws restricting the sale of intoxicants, while he talked 
plausibly to the temperance people. But some of his real 
friends gave his a serious talk about a year after his elec- 
tion, warning him that the better class of people had de- 
termined to beat him at the next election, unless he re- 
formed. This aroused his remaining manhood, and he 
honestly promised to reform, and apparently did reform ; 
and, during the next year, no one ever saw him drunk, or 
drinking. What a year of temptation that was to him, 
no one but himself knew. It was a fearful struggle to 
pass the Satanic doors on every street, but his pride up- 
held his good resolutions. Yet, after a week or two, he 
became almost crazed with the fierce appetite. His brain 
was wild with that one desire, so that he could think of 
nothing else. Then he wrote a message to his friend Joe 
to bring him a sealed bottle of his best brandy to his 
office. Hurrying home with it in his pocket, as if it were 
a priceless treasure, he locked himself in his room, telling 
his wife to report that he was sick. She was frightened 
at his strange look, and feared that he was about to com- 
mit suicide. But no entreaty could persuade him to 
epen the door. After awhile the scent of liquor and the 
sound of roisterous nonsense came through the keyhole, 
and she knew that he was drinking. Then, from foolish- 
ness, he changed to foulness, and fiercenness. She could 
hear him using obscene language, such as never fell from 
his lips when sober. Again he imagined himself quar- 
reling with annoying enemies, and his ejaculations Avere 
angry and ugly. At length silence sue-- -eded, and she 
knew that he was either dead, '^r lead drunk. 


144 


THE COST OF FAME. 


Worn out with her vigil, Flossy crept in with her babe 
— there were two of them now — and slept also. 

Ah! the awakening of that m.an 'i'he red eye>, the 
shaking hands, the haggard face, the aching head, the 
feeling of utter prostration. But he kept his room, until 
he was himself again, unlocking the door, at length, for 
Flossy to bring him food. 

Again he resolutely began the fight against tempta- 
tion; begging Flossy not to tell, even his father, of his 
fall. But again and again the same experience was re- 
peated. However, he congratulated himself that he was 
able to hold out a little longer each time, and hoped to 
conquer the habit entirely. Alas! for the delusive hopes 
of the drunkard! 

When the time came for another political campaign, 
the politicians, thinking that he had reformed, and know- 
ing him to be, otherwise, very popular, began talking of 
him as a candidate for re-election. When Henry’s father 
heard of it, he expostulated with his son on the danger 
of such a course. Thinking that Henry had reformed, 
he warned him of the temptations of a canvass, and 
begged him to decline. But the son refused, arguing that 
he was almost sure of re-nomination, and that, as their 
party was now in the majority, it would be needless to 
make a personal canvass as he had done before. With 
so strong a motive, Henry managed to resist temptation 
in public during the campaign. But when the election 
news came in, a noisy celebration was held, where liquor 
flowed like water, and Henry became beastly drunk. 

It was Christmas day. Henry and Flossy and the lit- 
tle folks had gone home to eat one of grandma’s good 
Chrismas dinners. Lennie shouted when he learned that 
they were going to grandpa’s house. Even the baby 
clapned his little hands, and said “grandma” when they 
put on her bonnet. 


145 


COFFIN NAIFS : THF STORY OF JANE m'GREGOR 

When they were all through with the bountiful dinner, 
and baby, who was nodding in her chair, with a piece of 
cake in her chubby fist, had been put to sleep, the rest of 
the family gathered in the parlor. Then the old fathei 
talked long and earnestly to Henry of the dangers of in- 
temperance, dwelling impressively on the drunkard’s ter- 
rible doom. His mother and wife both joined, with tear‘ 
and sobs,, in pleading with him to make one more des- 
perate effort to break loose from the awful habit lhar 
was dragging him down to eternal ruin. It was a hallowed 
hour. With his hand on his mother's Bible, and his 
own voice choked with tears, he made a most solemn 
pledge never again to touch alcoholic drinks. 

A month had passed. For awhile he thought he 
would be able to keep his vow. But that terrible appe- 
tite was tempting him again. For days he fought it 
back. But it returned with redoubled fury. It seemed 
to pursue him until he became desperate. The fumes 
of a saloon greeted his nostrils as he fled toward home 
— a saloon licensed by the votes of men who called 
themselves his friends. He rushed in and called for a 
drink — and drank long and recklessly. 

Flossie sat at home and waited, as many a sad-hearted 
woman waits, through the long night hours, for the 
step that never came. At first she tried to read, but 
her wandering thoughts were far away. 

Had Henry yielded to his weakness, and been 
tempted in behind those green-screened doors? If he 
had broken such a sacred vow as he had made that 
Christmas day, she feared no power could hold him 
back again from ruin and debauchery. She feared that 
he would never have the heart to try to quit again. 

How fast the sad experiences of life had changed 
the thoughtless girl into a care-worn woman. Worried, 
fretted, hour by hour, she walked the floor, or, giving 

146 


THE COST OE fame. 


way to tears, sat down and cried. How often she put 
her hand against the window glass, and peered into the 
darkness, watching, listening for his coming, but in 
vain. She had become accustomed to his coming home 
intoxicated, but tonight more ominous forebodings filled 
her heart, and thoughts of bloody braw'ls and dire 
calamities would intrude themselves. 

It was two days before they found Henry, for he had 
gone from one saloon to another, imagining that he 
was still elejctioneering, and that he must 'treat the 
crowds. He had been thrust back somewhere, to sleep 
off the first night’s debauch, only to renew his dissipa- 
tion when night came again. They found him in an 
out-of-the-way corner, where he had fallen in a drunken 
stupor. 

The week that followed was a terrible week. The 
physicians announced that he was suffering from pneu- 
monia, and perhaps he was, for he had been thoroughly 
chilled, and Flossie overheard one of the doctors say 
that if a drinking man took pneumonia, there was no 
hope of saving him. 

Visitors were excluded, and none but the family, 
nurse and physicians knew the true nature of his disease. 
But, oh ! the terrible delirium of that fever ! The strange 
fears, the wild cries, the monstrous imaginings, the 
pitiful entreaties for help and succor. 

It was a gloomy night. The wind howled dismally, 
as it whirled the snow into deepening drifts, and beat 
the branches of the trees against the roof. Worn and 
wearied with grief and watching, Flossie sat in an 
outer room, rocking her fretful babe, while the tears 
flowed down her cheeks. Her’s were bitter thoughts 
as memory recalled those youthful days when Henry 
came to the city, a bright country boy, and she, proud 
of her city training, informed him that he would be 


147 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

ridiculed in the best society unless he could smoke a 
cigar, or sip a glass of wine. She had sown the 
wind, she was reaping the whirlwind. Little Lennie. 
startled from his sleep by his papa s groans, crept out 
of bed and climbed into her lap. “Mamma,” he lisped, 
as his little hand slipped up around her neck, “won’t 
papa get well p’etty thoon?” 

The night wore on. Leaving her sleeping children, 
Flossie tiptoed into the sick-room. The groans were 
hushed now, and the feverish fancies had been sup- 
pressed by senseless stupor. The nurse had tried to 
persuade Henry’s mother to rest, but she would not 
leave her child. Hour after hour, she had hung over 
him, hoping that there might come a few conscious 
moments in which her dying boy might plead for mercy. 
But consciousness never returned. Alone, alone, deaf 
to every word of hope or love, the soul went out, into 
the blackness of the great unknown. 


CHAPTER XVL 


The Stroke That Lost. 

O NE autumn afternoon a group of stalwart young 
men, in the Harvard gymnasium, were planning 
for a boat crew. 

“We don’t want any fellows with heart disease this 
year. We don’t mean to be beaten again,” spoke up one. 

148 


THE STROKE THAT EOST. 

^‘No, sir ! The doctor must be more careful. If he 
isn t smart enough to tell whether a fellow’s got heart 
disease, or not, to start on, they would better get a new 
doctor,” replied one of his comrades. 

“But the doctor said Chauncey was all right at first, 
and it was tobacco heart brought on by smoking," 
spoke up another. 

“And did you know that story got out, and got tn 
the other crew?” asked a fourth. 

“Worse and more of it," exclaimed the first speaker. 

“Yes,” was the reply, “and they boasted they didn’t 
have a smoker among them.” 

‘Did they leave them out on purpose, or was it just 
a happen-so?” 

“Just a happen-so, I guess. It happened tliat their 
brawniest fellows were not smokers.” 

“Not so much a happen-so as you suppose,” said Mr 
Shaeffer, the trainer, who had come up unobserved. 
“The doctor and I have been talking it over. He vis- 
ited Yale this summer, and Dr. Seaver showed him a 
record that he has been keeping for several years, and 
you would be astonished at his figures. Two hundred 
and five boys were examined when they entered school, 
and once every year after that, and the way the tobacco 
users fell behind would show that it was no chance work. 
Nor it wasn’t all in the trainer, either. There was good 
reason why their team was made up of brawny fellows. 
The doctor says he has noticed for several vears that 
the tobacco users never stood at the head of their classes, 
and that, as a rule, they did not seem as strong as the 
non-users, but Dr. Seaver’s observations put an end to 
all debate on that point.” 

“What about it? What do they prove?” 

“Well, in weight the non-users increased ten per cent 
more than the regular users, and six per cent more than 


149 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STOKY O'F JANE m'GREGOK 

the occasional users. In growth of height the non- 
users increased thirty-seven ^ per cent more than the 
regular users, and tweny-four per cent more than the 
occasional users. In growth of chest girth the non- 
users have an advantage over the regular users of twen- 
ty-six per cent, and over the occasional users of twenty- 
two per cent. But, in capacity of lungSy the growth is 
in favor of the non-users by seventy-five per cent when 
compared with the regular users, and fort3^-nine per 
cent when compared with the irregular users.” 

There were many exclamations of surprise from the 
young men. 

“If you doubt it,” continued Shaeffer, “you can ask 
to see the record the next time you are over there.” 

“If that is so, it doesn't pay,” said a stalwart Ver- 
monter, “and I will quit. So, here goes,” and, pulling 
a cigar from his pocket, he threw it away. 

“And,” continued Shaeffer, “Andrews, the physical 
director at Yale, has declared that, if a fellow smokes 
even a single cigarette during the year he will be thrown 
out of the crew. We do not want to be beaten again, 
as you say, and I will never coach another crew of 
smokers.” 

Among those who promised to quit smoking while 
in training for the race was our old friend, Cvrus Lin- 
ville. After teaching a few years, he had entered tho 
University, where he had now been for over two years. 
Though he scorned to admit it. the arguments of ^he 
Eudora girls had caused him to stint hhnself in the 
number of his cigars, and he had smoked but moder- 
ately since his entrance at Harvard. He had taken to 
athletics, and was becomingf proud of his chest and 
muscles, and his overweening ambition was to reach 
a place on one of the crews. 

Their training began, with the self-denial of many 


THE STROKE THAT LOST. 


ot the usual dainties, and hard and constant driii. And, 
to Cyrus, at least, it was a struggle against temptation. 
Ut late he had Deen oDiigea, so lie tliougnt, to stimulate 
iiimseli to extra study oy extra cigars, in tne nervous 
restless condition, caused by the loss ot his usual smoke, 
it seemed impossible to master ms lessons, and he had 
not the stamina to resist the ciaving tor his wonted nar- 
cotic. iSo he resorted to duplicity, iie secretly smoked 
one cigar a day, just before settling down to his lessons. 
But even that much retrenchment, together with the 
abundant exercise, and strict regime, ii;nproved his con- 
dition so much, that even his trainer did not suspect 
tlie deception. 

t he great day had come. Excursions had brought 
thousands to the scene. The livei, on either side of 
the last mile of the race course, was lined with a gay 
tiotilla of yachts and excurison steamers, decked in 
holiday trim. The bridge was thronged with an excited 
crowd, wearing the colors of their favorites; and an 
observation train, crowded with spectators, and decked 
with blue and crimson banners, wa^ waiting, on either 
bank of the river, to follow the course of the races. 
The four-oared race was the first on the schedule. The 
expectant crowds were getting impatient, when four 
men in crimson jerseys were discovered unloading their 
shell from a launch that had turned in, and were greeted 
w ith cheers. Just then a blue shell was seen rowing 
around the bend to the meeting place, and again the 
cheers burst forth; the sharp, jerky yells of Yale’s ad- 
herents striving to drown the three long yells of the 
Harvards. The two shells backed against the referee’s 
boat, as they received their final instructions; and there 
were a few moments of eager waiting. 

The Harvard crowd on board of one of the steamers 
were anxiously watching. 


COFFIN NAIFS ! THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

“A Splendid crew, ’ commented one ot the professors. 

“Yes, 1 never had one practice more faithtully, re- 
plied Schaeffer. 

“I thought you were not going to have any smokers 
on this time,” said another. 

“I have not.” 

“But I caught Linville smoking yesterday.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, sure. He threw his cigar away when he saw 
me.” 

Schaeffer turned pale, saying, “If you had told me, 

1 would have tiiiOwn him out at the last minute.” 

The pistol cracked, and the boats shot fonvard. With 
sharp, quick strokes, the crimson blades flashed in the 
sun, as the Harvard shot ahead. With steady, powerful 
swings the blue blades of the Yale scattered the froth. 
A brisk breeze had beaten the foam into feathery caps, 
which increased the labor of rowing, but both crews 
bent to their work with steady power. At the first half 
mile the crimson shell was a half length ahead, and the 
cheering grew exciting. But, inch by inch, the blue 
was crawling up, and their friends encouraged then 
with loud yells. Now they were prow to prow. Intense 
interest held the crowd silent, as they waited breathlessly 
far a gain. 

To the throng on the shore it looked an easy matter 
to send those light shells flying over the water with those 
long swinging strokes. A nearer view showed the men 
with flushed faces, tense muscles, and lalx)red breaths, 
.straining every nerve to gain a vantage. 

First one prow, and then the other., with a desnerate 
snurt, shot a bit ahead. The excitement grew intense. 
First one crowd, and then the other, seeing- a slight 
vantage gained, burst into cheers. The buoy that marked 
the entrance of the last half mile was reached. The 


152 


THE STROKE THAT EOST. 

Harvard shell seemed to quicKen her speed. Steadily 
the crimson crew crept away trom their rival. Cheer 
upon cheer rent the air. The middle of the last half was 
reached, and Harvard was a boat lea^th ahead. Sue! 
denly the leading shell swerved from^its course. Lin- 
ville’s oar dragged broadside in the water. His head 
had sunk forward on his breast. The big V^ermonter 
dropped his oar — caught him — dashed water in his fac: 
— in a moment both oars were again beating the \vaves 
But the sharp yells of Yale burst into frenzy, as the 
blue prow shot past. Linville’s stroke had lost its power. 
The redoubled energy of his comrades was in vain. Yale 
kept the lead. The yelling grew deafening. As hope 
waned the Harvard rooters waited in breathless silence. 
Yale crossed the line two lengths ahead. The excite- 
ment beggared all description. Bridges and boats were 
blue with waving banners. Yells and horns, the tooting 
of steam whistles, and shooting of guns made pande- 
monium. The Yale launch picked up their crew a’* 
once. The steam craft turned back with a rush, churn- 
ing the water into a foam. 

The beaten crew hurried to their dressing rooms in 
silence. When they appeared in the crowd again, they 
tried to make them<=;^1ves as inconspicons as pos.sible 
The story of Linville’s smoking had leaked out, of which 
fact he was soon made aware by the jibes of the ever 
present small boy. His friends said nothing, but he 
well understood the meaning of their silence. Srtickei' 
with the consciousness of having betrayed the Uni- 
versity honor, he crept away through the crowd, never 
to show his face at Harvard again. 


153 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Broken Heartstrings. 

A t a Sunday school convention, a gentleman in the 
audience said to his wiie: “Do you know the 
lady to whom the chairman is speaking? ' 

“No, I have not noticed her.” 

“Her face is familiar, but I can not place her,” Just 
then the lady arose, annd the chairman introduced her to 
the audience. Husband and wife looked at each other, 
and smiled, and the wife ejaculated: “Is it possible? 
1 knew she was in the state, but not know she was to 
be here.” 

“I have been asked,” began the speaker, ‘ho talk to 
you of one phase of inteinpe^ance. You complain of the 
scarcity of men and boys in Sunday-schools and 
churches. Tobacco is one of the chief causes of this 
trouble. Both men and boys often prefer to spend Sun- 
day smoking, rather than attend church. Even when 
they attend, ^-ou complain that preaching fails to reacli 
their hearts. Tobacco afYects those portions of the brain 
through which the moral nature exp’-esses itself. It 
will, in time, so. callous the brain, and deaden die moral 
nature, that the truths of the gospel make little impres- 
sion. In a revival in Ohio there were several hundred 
converts, and afterwards many back-sliders. It was no- 
ted that every backslider was a tobacco user, and not one 
backslid who did not use tobacco. The testimony of the 
Salvation Army workers, and other workers in the slums, 
is that the tobacco habit tends toward both drunkenness 


154 


BROKEN HEARTSTRINGS 


and licentiousness. Jerry McAuley said: “When i 
man has an appetite for liquor, and is tryinng to keep 
from drinking, tobacco is tatal. At that moment a young 
man rose to go out, staggered, a::d fell headlong in the 
aisle. Those nearest picked him up, and laid him on a 
seat. The speaker paused, and saw a physician and a res- 
ident minister, who proved to be the boy’s father, hasten 
to him. A song was called for, but just as it closed, the 
young man aroused, and was heard to say: “I know 
what caused it. It was my smoking. i'his isn’t the 
hist time it has served me this way. Take my tobaccj 
out of my pockets, and throw it away.” They did so. 
and then led him from the room. The speaker resumed. 
^'My friends, sympathy for the parents would counsel 
silence, but duty bids me point the moral of this accident. 
I am glad that this father did not set a bad example for 
his boy by smoking himself. But we never know when 
even the best trained boys are safe. Somebody sets the 
bad example. How can we check this evil if boys can 
point to teachers or preachers who do smoke? Shall the 
cigar fiend denounce the liquor drunkard? Teachers, 
let me beg of you to warn the little ones of this danger, 
as you would were there a rattlesnake in their path. 
Ministers,* are you blind to this peril ? The very stability 
of our government is endangered by a deadened public 
conscience. Old ideals of purity and honesty have been 
lowered. We need men of upright purpose and clear 
conscience, for official positions. Yet this is one of the 
habits by which men’s hearts are being calloused into in- 
difference. Can men whose moral natures are deadened 
by tobacco, or whose brains , are muddled by drink, be 
trusted to manage public affairs? Teach the people that 
whatever blunts the conscience, or weakens the moral 
character, is demoralizing to society. Some wreckers 
once lured a ship on the rocks by false beacon lights. 


155 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE M GREGOR 

. aiiong the dead, one of the wreckers found his own son. 
leach latheis tnat every pipe or cigar they smoke is a 
false signal light, luring some boy to ruin. Could you 
give an account to God for your influence in this matter ? 
— for your silence as well as for your words?’' 

At the close of her talk several others spoke, stating 
facts that confiimed her statements. 

When the session adjourned, the husband and wife 
hastened up to meet the speaker. The wife clasped her 
liand, with the words ; 

"Why, Jane McGregor! What a happy surprise! I 
do not believe, though, that you recognize us,” as the 
speaker scanned their faces. “Let me introduce you tcf 
my husband. Rev. Philip Dayton.” The light of recog- 
nition flashed across her face. “To be sure, and this is 
Lucy,” as she clasped a hand of each. ‘‘How glad I am 
to see you both.” 

“Your speech sounded like old times,” said Mr. Day- 
ton. 

“No doubt, for I still ride my old hobby.” 

Before they parted, Jane promised to visit them soon. 

Jane McGregor looked out of the car window one 
pleasant September evening, not long afterwards, as the 
train slowed up. Many years had elansed since, she grad- 
uated. After teaching several years, she had studied 
medicine, and built up a good practice. Then she be 
came, for several years, one of the physicians of a large 
hosnital. And now she had taken a vear’s vacation, to 
serve as a lecturer for the Woman’s Christian Temoer- 
ance Union. Now, as she looked out, she saw that Eu- 
dora had doubled in size, but some parts of it looked fa- 
miliar. Old Walnut Hill Seminary, crowning the hill at 
the ton of the long street, was the same, excent that the 
^^rees were taller. As she stepped off the cars, her old 
friend, Nellie, looking somewhat matronly, but almost 


-BROKEN -HEARTSTRINGS 

.as pretty as ever, met hei, with the warmest greetings. 
And there was Aunty Clark, too, little changed, except 
that her hair v^ as white, who greeted her with the same 
.cheery smile, and kindly voice, that had always made her 
•SO dearly loved, fhey could hardly talk fast enough to 
keep up with the queries that crowded their minds, as 
they rode up the street As the carriage stopped, Nellie 
*said: “I am to have you tonight, ” and Mrs. Clark bade 
them good-bye. 

“What a beautiful home,” said Dr. Jane McGregor, as 
Nellie, now Mrs. Felton, ushered her into the pretty 
parlor. Prof. King had, long ago, found a more congen- 
ial position, and our old friend, Prof. Felton, had, for 
y^ears, been President of the Seminary. 

“Excuse me,” said Nellie, after they had visited 
awhile, “if I go on with my work. Alice wants me to 
finish this point lace, and put it on her dress to wear to 
a picnic.” 

“Oh ! there is Winnie waking up,” she said, presently, 
“I want you to. see her, she’s the sweetest cutest little 
darling.” And Nellie soon returned, with a dimpled, blue 
eyed, yellow curled tot. 

“Winnie in name, and winsome in face,” commented 
Jane, who had learned to enjoy speaking pleasant truths. 

“Won’t you go to the nice lady? She wants to see 
Winnie,” but the sleepy child curled herself up on her 
mother’s shoulder. “She’s mamma’s baby, isn’t she? 
Now hug mamma, and go plav. Then Nellie told about 
her other children, with a mother’s loving pride, and 
they visited about old times, and old schoolmates, and 
present interests, until they touched on temperance top- 
ics, and Jane ventured the remark: Nellie, I am sorrv 
you have dropped the W. C. T. U. work. You used to 
write about carrying on the Y, and I hoped you still kept 
up your interest in it.” 


157 


COFFIN NAIFS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

“Yes, alter I was married, Newton wanted me to look 
alter it, lie saiQ it lieipeG lo Keep up tne morality and 
reputation oi the school. You know 1 would do any- 
tiiing lor my husDand, he has been so good to me. 1 
woiKea loi ms interests, socially, among the students^ 
and in the Y, but alter 1 had so many baoies, i left it for 
the gnis, and they have allowed it to die.” 

”You ought to revive it again. 

“I wish i could find the time for it. Since the mines 
opened here, they have brought a lough element into the 
town. x\ewton says it is harder to keep the boys from 
smoking and drinking, and he misses the good influence 
of the Y. But 1 have so much to do. 1 am always in 
a rush.” 

“Nellie, cannot you break yourself of this fancy-work 
habit? Souls outweigh lace — on God's scales. Then 
you could find time to help boys and girls resist temp- 
tation.” 

“Oh, Jane! 1 never thought of that. You always 
could see to the bottom of things. I wdll try.” Some 
more of the children came home from school, after 
awhile, and just as Nellie rose to look after supper, Fred, 
her fourteen year old boy, rushed in with : “Oh mamma, 
the awfullest thing happened !” 

“What is it?" she asked, as he flung his arms about 
her. 

“John Fenlon’s cousin's all burned up! He was out 
driving wdth her, and a spark from his cigarette burned 
her dress, and it blazed up, and she screamed and scared 
the horses, and they run, and thev couldn’t put the fire 
out.” 

“Oh, dear! Isn’t that awful?” 

“And the folks stopped them close to us, and she's 
burned just awful! She screamed, and screamed! And 
Tom’s crying awfully.” 

T58 


BROKEN HEARTSTRINGS 

'“No wonder,” said his mamma. “It is a terrible 
])imishment for his carelessness. I will go over after 
a while and see if 1 can do anything for her. But you’re 
so hot and excited ! Lie down in the hammock and rest, 
while I look after supper.’’ And she introduced him to 
her friend, who was soon making the boy’s acquaintance. 
After a little talk about the accident he said : 

“I have heard of smokers burning up barns, but I 
never heard of their burning up people before.” 

“1 have heard of several instances. Being burned by 
cigarettes is just an accident, however; but that is not 
the only way they kill people.” And she told him of 
many instances where death or insanity had been caused 
])y cigarette smoking. 

“That’s awful!” he exclaimed. “Can’t you do some- 
thing to stop it?’’ 

Then she told him of the Anti-Cigarette Leagues, 
and of the thousands of boys who had taken the pledge 
not to smoke, and. she planned with Fred to help him 
start one at Eudora. 

The next afternoon found Miss McGregor in Aunty 
Clark’s cosy sitting room, and they were visiting about 
old friends. 

“And Mother Mallows: is she still alive?” asked Jane. 

“Yes, the last I heard. She went to live with a daugh- 
ter. Mr. Mallows died years ago, of cancer of the 
lips,” replied Mrs. Clark. 

“So many old tobacco chewers go that way. And 
where is Bennie?” 

“Didn’t you know he was in the insane asylum?” 

“No, indeed, Nellie wrote me that he kept on having 
fits. But she was so taken up with her own little folks, 
that she quit writing to me. I had not heard from Eu- 
dora for years, till I began writing to her again this 


159 


Coffin naifs : the story of jane m^gregor 

summer. And I did not think to ask her about Bennie 
yesterday.” 

“Yes, he kept on having fits. A year or two after you 
left they found he was chewing tobacco, helping him- 
self to it in the store. The clerks had taught him to- 
use it by hiring him with candy, and that was what 
made him so sick that time. And soon after that he 
be;, .in ’••aving Jrs. Dr. Hawley told me oner that he 
thought chewing tobacco sO' young caused the fits, but 
Dr. Grimes, of course, thought differently. The trouble 
all went to Bennie’s brain, and he became so idiotic and 
unmanageable, they sent him to the asylum. The phy- 
sicians there said tobacco caused the trouble.” 

“How sad, that such a lovable child should be ruined. 
And what became of the Darnells?” 

“He died of paralysis. And his smoking wife became 
so childish, her mind was almost a blank. She -died of 
old age. Dr. Grimes said, but they told at her funeral 
that she was only sixty-five.” 

“Died of softening of the brain, caused by smoking.” 
Commented Jane. 

Just then a knock was heard, and when Mrs. Clark 
stepned to the door, she exclaimed : “Why, Mrs. Heath, 
what a happy surprise. Where did you come from ?” 

From Chicago, on that train,” The next moment 
Jane was also giving a glad welcome, and asking after 
Minnie’s health. 

“She is much better, but not real strong yet. George 
has taken her on a trip to the eastern mountains. I 
wanted to visit Mrs. Clark, anyway, and when I re- 
ceived your letter, I decided to run down and see you: 
I want you to visit us after their return.” They visited 
hour after hour as only old friends can visit. 

“What became of Dick Darnell?” asked Jane, at 

i6o 


BROKEN HEARTSTRINGS 

length. “Mrs. Heath made me forget the Darnells when 
she came in so suddenly.” 

“The necessity of supporting his mother made an in- 
dustrious boy of him ; and, after her death he married 
Zina.” 

“Zina Green? And did Dick quit smoking?” 

“He promised to quit when they were married, and 
I think he tried, but he was not resolute enough.” 

“When will girls learn to quit depending on such 
])romises?” 

“When their first baby came, it died suddenly, when 
only a few hours old. Dr. Hawley said it died of a 
weak heart. And he told me that the weak heart was 
caused by the tobacco used by Dick and his parents. 1 
urged him to tell Dick the truth, and he did so, after 
the first sharpness of grief was over. But Dick thought 
he might be mistaken. The second baby seemed all 
right at first, but grew puny. Dr. Hawley and I were 
called one night, and found it in spasms. It was pitiful 
to see the little form stiffen in those terrible contortions 
and the eyes set in that deathly stare. Zina was almost 
distracted, and Dick, with tears rolling down his cheeks, 
asked eagerly: ‘She isn’t dead, is she, doctor?’ 

“ ‘No, she is reviving again.’ 

“ ‘O, my baby ! my sweet baby ! I can’t give you up.’ 
he moaned. ‘Save her, doctor, save her! and I will pay 
you all the money I am worth.’ 

“ ‘The rats take your money, boy I As if I wouldn’t 
do all in my power to save a suffering babe, money or 
no money? All you’re worth! Bah! If you’d thrown 
your tobacco to the hogs when I told you to, she needn’t 
have been in this condition.’ 

“Another spasm came on, and the doctor laid her in 
my arms, saying, ‘It is no use; she’s gone,’ and turned 

i6i 


COFFIN NAIFS :• THE STORY OF JANE m’GREGOR 


away, to shut out the sight of those young parents, and 
their piteous grief/’ 

“Such cases are common,” replied Jane. “Thousands 
of babes, some of them unborn, die of weak hearts, or 
lack of stamina, inherited from drinking, licentious, or 
tobacco-using fathers or grandfathers.” 

“Dr. Hawley had another talk with Dick,” Mrs. Clark 
went on, “and gave him something to strengthen him, 
and he succeeded in giving up his tobacco. The next 
baby was a boy, and is living yet. But Dick died of a. 
fever a year or two later. The doctor said he might 
have recovered, if tobacco had not weakened his heart. 
The mischief was done before he quit using it.” 

”lo be sure! And part of the mischief was done by 
his smoking parents, before he was born. Where is 
Zina now?” 


“She lives here, supporting herself by washing; but 
she is away now, visiting her sister.” 

“Aunty,” said Jane, after supper, as she sat down near 
her, “I wish you would tell me about Elsie’s sickness and 
death. The girls wrote me something about it, but I 
would like to hear more.” 


Yes, dear, I will try, though there were years that I 
could not speak or think of her without tears. Your 
coming recalls old times.” 

‘‘Don’t try then, if it makes you so sad.” 

“The years have softened mv sorrow, but even yet i 
never hear the songs she sang Withcnit the tears starting. 

I hope some time to hear her again.” 

“No doubt you will hear her sing in heaven.” 

“Yes, thank God for His promises, thev keep up our 

II ope and courage.” 

“I think,” said Mrs. Heath, “if it could even be 
pi oved that the Bible was not true, it would pay for man- 
kind to believe in its truth, for the sake of the hope it 


162 


BROKEN HEARTSTRINGS 

gives. Hope is the lodestone of life, ever leading us on. 
and keeping us up, from the cradle to the grave. But 
when there is nothing more tO' hope for, when one be- 
comes helpless and useless, when age, pain and poverty 
are all that are left, — how could we bear them without 
the hope of heaven to strengthen our courage?” 

“And how could we bear sorrow and lonliness with- 
out it ? You remember,” Mrs. Clark went 'on, a^t-er a 
pause, “how worn out Elsie used to be when she came 
home from school?” 

“She was always full of life when she was among us 
girls, but I remember hearing Lucy speak of her getting 
so tired.” 

“I tried to do everything I could, myself, for I saw she 
was getting worn out. She grieved because I had to work 
so hard, and she would put her arms around my neck and 
say: ‘J^^st be patient a few more days and then you can 
rest, and I will make the living the rest of our lives.' Yoi. 
know they had already promised her a place in the 
school here. She seemed to get rested through the sum- 
mer, and began her school full of hope. But the longer 
she taught, the more worn and listless she became. At 
last I insisted on her resigning. She was always talking 
about how rest and spring sunshine would cure her. 
Then a severe coldi — a few feverish days. The doctor 
said she would be all right soon. She was the first to 
realize the truth. T am going to leave you, mamma, 
don’t grieve. I won’t be tired any more. You will 
come some day.’ ” 

Tears choked the mother’s voice, and silent tears were 
running down the cheeks of her listeners. 

“I ought not to have asked you to talk about it,” said 
Jane, slipping an arm around her neck, and drawing the 
white head down on her shoulder. Aunty Clark had 
noted how the rough edge of Jane’s former brusqueness 


COFFIN NAILS : THF STORY OF JANE m’GREGOK 

had worn off ; and now she caught a glimpse of the ten- 
derness hidden deep in her hearty like the sweet kernel 
in the chestnut bur. 

“Never mind, I do not often shed tears over it now. 
It is so many years, you know. The doctor said he had 
found that her heart was weak, and had been trying to 
strengthen It, but it was weaker than he thought. It was 
sad when my husband died, but I had Elsie to love and 
care for. I felt that I must be brave and strong for her 
sake. But, when she went, it seemed as if I had nothing 
to live for. I knew she was happy, but home was so des- 
olate. And I have not forgotten,” she went on, turning 
to Mrs. Heath, “how you insisted on taking me home 
with you, and tried to lighten my grief, till the bitterness 
wore off. But the home-coming brought it back afresh. 
The house was so big, so lonely. Every object brought 
back memories of my darling. It seemed as though the 
end had come — that I never could pick* up the broken 
stitches of life again.” 

“I can realize now how you felt, even better than I 
could then,” said Mrs. Heath. “It was somewhat that 
way when Minnie was married. The house was so lone- 
ly, and it seemed as if I had no heart to fill my life with 
fresh interests.” 

“Elsie had said,” continued Mrs. Clark, “that I must 
not keep boarders any more, yet I knew not what else to 
do, and I felt that it would be better to fill the silent 
house with life. Then a neighbor s child was sick, and I 
helped care for him, and the doctor said : ‘You are a 
born nurse, Mrs. Clark, I wish you would follow nurs- 
ing.’ I t^k his advice, and it has been a blessing to me. 
I have lightened my burden by helping others carry 
theirs, and forgotten my sorrow in trying to make others 
happy. I have kept a family in part of the house, but the 
home-coming has always been lonely.” 

164 


BROKEN HEARTSTRINGS 


“Yes, Aunty, it is hard that such a loving woman as 
you should have such a sad life.” 

“God knows best, perhaps I was too selfish in my love 
for my own, too careless about the sufferings and sor- 
rows of others. Some time I shall understand it.” 

“Yes,” answered Mrs. Heath, “ our Father helps us 
to bear our burdens, and grow stronger under them. But 
I do not think God wills that the young should die. It 
is His plan that all should live to a ripe old age. When 
the old pass away, after the labors of a long life, it seems 
fitting, like the plucking of ripe fruit, or the falling of a 
sere leaf ; but when the young are cut down, with all of 
life’s plans and joys opening before them, it seems ter- 
rible.” Aunty Clark looked surprised at this, to her, 
new view. 

“You are right,” replied Jane. “Early deaths are 
caused by sin, physical sin. But the sinner does not al- 
ways suffer the penalty. ‘Our fathers ate sour grapes, 
and the children’s teeth are set on edge.’ Aunty, did any 
of your people ever have heart trouble?” 

“No, they were a long lived race.” 

“And her father?” 

“I never knew that he had any heart trouble, although 
he was never very strong, and he died of a fever. But, 
after Elsie’s death, I wrote to his physician. He replied 
that he did have a weak heart, that the fever was not a 
dangerous one, and that he could have saved him, had 
the heart been strong.” 

“And. he had not drank, or used tobacco, had he?” 

“Oh, no. And I did not know that his people had any 
heart trouble, for I had heard him speak of his parents 
and grandparents living to be old. But last year I vis- 
ited his friends, and talked with the old physician who 
treated his parents. He told me that neither of them 
had any hereditary heart trouble, and were of a robust 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

ancestry, but that both used tobacco, the mother, especial- 
ly, being an inveterate smoker. Yet she lived to old age, 
apparently healthy, though quite feeble for many years 
before her death. He said he used to argue that tobacco 
agreed with some people, and adduced her as an example. 
But, when he came to treat her, in her last years, he 
found her heart greatly impaired. He said that it was 
her strong constitution, and her inactive life in her later 
years that enabled her to hold out so long against the 
tobacco poison. He afterward learned that she had be- 
queathed weak hearts to a number of her children and 
grandchildren. And he stated that other observations 
during a long life had proved the fallacy of his former 
lX)sition, and that he now believed that no one could use 
tobacco without injury, both to the user, and to poster- 
ity.’’ 

‘'To be sure! And when all physicians realize that, 
and practice what they preach, it will do much to check 
the evil.” 

‘T have thought for many years,” said Mrs. Heath, 
“that Minnie’s lack of vigor, and tendency to nervous 
trouble, was inherited from her father. He came of 
strong, long-lived New England parents, but he learned 
to use tobacco when a boy. In his senior year in college 
he was unable to master his lessons without the stimulus 
of a cigar. At length even that proved ineffective, and, 
fearing he would fail, he left school, and taught for sev- 
eral years. But he became so nervous, and suffered so 
much from neuralgia, that we came west for his health. 
The change helped him for a time only. One physician 
told him that excessive smoking was affecting his nerves, 
but he said the doctor didn t know what he was talking 
about. He had to quit teaching, and I began dressmak- 
ing. His nervous system became such a wreck, that he 

i66 


BROKEN heartstrings 


suffered constantly, until a complication of diseases 
ended in death.” 

“It is not strange that Minnie was always nervous,” 
replied Jane. “She wrote me briefly of her children’s 
death, but little about their sickness ; she said it brought 
her trouble back too vividly. What diseases caused their 
death ?” 

“The first one died before he was two years old, after 
a short illness, suffering intensely from some brain or 
nervous trouble, but our physicians were unable to diag- 
nose the disease. Minnie seemed heartbroken, and 
George insisted that I should go and live with them. 
When the next babe came, Minnie was happy again. But 
when about the same age, he was attacked in the same 
manner. We had moved to Chicago, and our physicians 
there pronounced it cerebro-meningitis, but it baffled 
their skill, and the little life went out. Minnie was pros- 
trated with grief, and for a time we feared we should 
lose her, too.” 

“Yes, grief is very depressing, and tears ooze out 
one’s courage.” 

“George felt keenly the loss of his children, but brave- 
ly kept cheerful, and was so good to Minnie. She rallied 
at last, but has never been very strong.” 

“Did you ever surmise that her father’s smoking 
might have caused their death?” 

“Yes, I talked with our physician about it, and he 
said it was quite probable, for children often inherit lack 
of vitality, and tendencies to disease, from both parents 
and grandparents.” 

“No doubt. And I have observed that children are 
more apt to be like their grandparents, than their pa- 
rents.” 

“I read once,” said Mrs. Clark, “that the time to begin 
training a child is with his grandmother.” 

167 


COFFIN NAIFS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

“To be sure! And the time to begin guarding against 
disease is with his great-grandfather.” 

“A friend was telling me a circumstance that goes 
to prove your statement,” said Mrs. Heath. “Her hus- 
band was a minister, and i't occurred in one of his pas- 
torates in Iowa. The wife of one of his parishioners, 
while very nervous and excitable, was a good woman, 
and a strong temperance woman. They had one child, 
a bright boy, whom the mother was carefully guarding 
from all association with tipplers or tobacco users, de- 
termined that he should never learn these injurious 
habits. After a time he had something like epileptic 
fits. The physician thought he had been poisoned by 
tobacco. The parents indignantly denied it, and said 
kc had no possible chance to get it. The fits continued, 
and they finally found, by close watching, that he did 
chew tobacco, secretly; but how he learned it, or where 
he obtained it, they never could learn. He grew duller, 
and, when my friend left the state, he was almost idiotic. 
His father,- who Was a strong, healthy man, of clean 
habits, told the minister that his wife’s father and grand- 
father were the wor^t tobacco sots he ever knew, and 
he had no doubt that his boy inherited his tobacco appe- 
tite and his nervous degeneracy that ended in epilepsy, 
from his tobacco using grandfathers.” 

“No doubt of it. Would these tobacco sots could rea- 
lize the legacy of misery they are handing down.” 

“I wish,” said Mrs. Clark, “that the subject of here- 
dity was better understood by the people.” 

“There is something strange and wonderful about it,” 
remarked Mrs. Heath. “Only think how resemblances 
and characteristics crop out for generations. There was 
Max Jukes, you know, and his drunken descendants ; 
and Jonathan Edwards, with his fifteen hundred re- 


168 


BROKEN heartstrings 

spectable descendents, with only six criminals, and not 
a pauper nor idiot among them.” 

“To be sure! It is a deep study, but men will yet 
delve into it more deeply, and learn their duty to 
posterity.” 

“And," continued Mrs. Heath, “Dr. McNichol tells 
of a healthy couple in high social position in New York, 
who drank wine moderately and regularly, and by the 
third and fourth generations their descendents were all 
either drunkards, opium eaters, idiotic or insane, except 
those who had died of consumption before maturity.” 

“Physicians have traced many such cases on a smaller 
scale. Tobacco is a snail beside the worm of the still, 
but when they track it up, they will find that it, also, 
leaves a serpent’s trail, even to the third and fourth 
generations. Weakened minds, sometimes amounting 
to idiocy, frail constitutions, and tendency to disease, are 
often the heritage from tobacco using parents, especially 
where it is used by both parents.” 

“I have wondered,” said Mrs. Heath, “if the prover- 
bial nervousness of American women is not an inherit- 
ance from tobacco using fathers.” 

“Partially, no doubt. I have observed the same ner- 
vous weakness in the sons of tobacco using mothers. 
And where the mother uses either liquor or tobacco, 
the inherited effects are worse than from the father’s 
ride.” 

“I have heard women say,” remarked Mrs. Clark, 
“they didn’t care if their husbands used tobacco, it did 
not hurt them — if they only knew how it hurt their 
iiildren.” 

“Heredity evils are not the only injuries, either. 
Often the frail health of women and children, especially 
weak eyes and sore throats, are caused by the tobacco 

169 


COFI^IN NAIIyS : THE STORY OE JANE MCGREGOR 

poisoned air, and poisoned bodies of husbands and 
fathers.” 

“Yes,” Mrs. Clark replied, “a friend of mine had a 
sweet little girl who studied her lessons evenings, in 
the room where her father smoked. She beccame pale 
and nervous, and they thought she was studying too 
hard, but the physician said she was poisoned by her 
father’s cigars. He stopped smoking, and she soon re- 
covered.” 

“I was once walking with a celebrated physician in 
an eastern city,” said Mrs. Heath, “when we passed a 
house surrounded by every evidence of wealth and re- 
finement, and he said; ‘I have a patient in there, an 
idolized wife, who is dying, and beyond all hope, and 
none of them know what ails her, and yet her husband 
has killed her.’ 

“Why, doctor, what do you mean?’ I asked. ‘I mean 
just this; her husband is literally steeped in tobacco, and 
his insensible perspiration has become a deadly poison, 
and his wife has absorbed enough of this — and had be- 
fore I was called in^ — that she will die.’ 'Have you told 
them?’ I asked. ‘No, what good? It would only add 
to their misery now.’ ‘But, doctor, are you sure?’ I 
asked again. ‘Yes, I have seen such things before. 
Many frail women are thus killed.” 

“I should think,” said Mrs. Clark, “that if girls knew 
such facts, they would refuse to marry tobacco users.” 

“I trust the time may come when they will. Oh, the 
pity of it, that good women, like you and Zina and 
Minnie should suffer such loss and heartache on account 
of this curse. May God give me strength to arouse 
women against it!” 


170 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


What They Think oe Us. 


A fter several weeks of lecturing, we find Misb Mc- 
Gregor visiting in the home of Mrs. Lucv Day- 
ton, who was just saying to her: 

“I have realized the blessedness of motherhood, as 
well as its cares.” 

“Would that more mothers could realize it!” replied 
Jane. “One of the sins of the day is the belittling of 
motherhood, and its criminal avoidance.” 

“I have found motherhood one of the holiest depths 
of human experience. As each babe was laid oi my 
arm, my heart was full of love and fear. It seemed 
so strange that the little being, a part of mine, would 
go on living forever. And the thought that the destiny 
of that little spotless life would hang on the training 
that I should give -it, almost overwhelmed me with its 
sacred responsibility . But I have been blessed with good 
children. When Emma was a little girl I used to take 
her on my lap, and talk of how we loved each other, 
and what we could do to make papa and the little broth- 
ers and sister happy. Later on we talked of Jesus and 
His love, or of some poor child, or some dear grandma 
who needed love and help; and then of the drunkard's 
poor children, or the little heathen, and how we could 
deny ourselves to help them. So she grew up with her 
heart full of sweet charities, and she is such a comfort to 
me, and such a help, both in our home, and in our church 
and temperance work, though she is only fifteen.” 


COI^FIN NAIFS : THE STORY OF JANE M-GREOOK 

“Have you succeeded as well with your boys?” 

“Yes, I used to have confidential talks with them, too, 
and have always kept in touch with them. I impressed 
on my children that character, religion and eduction are 
far more valuable than style or wealth.” 

“You are right. The craze for money, and the push 
for show and excitement are ruining the home.” 

“I have dreaded for the time to come,” Lucy resumed, 
“when my children should grow away from me. Les- 
ter begins to think himself a young man, and the in- 
fluences of the college have not all been the best. Of 
course I did not fear his drinking, and, a year ago, I 
would have scorned the fear of his smoking. But, one 
day, he said : ‘Of course, mother, I would not smoke 
a cigarette, only the lower classes use them, but the 
toniest young men smoke a cigar occasionally.’ 

“Lester, have you ever smoked?’ I asked, my heart 
almost standing still. 

“ ‘No, mother, I never have.’ You cannot tell how 
relieved I felt. I could not bear the though of my boy 
befouled with the loathsome habit. But one evening 
one of his classmates was here, and I overheard him 
ask Lester if he smoked, and he replied : ‘No, my par- 
ents object to the habit.’ 

“ ‘Your father is a minister, isn’t he? Of course, 
women and ministers object to smoking, but, with men 
of affairs it is different. It is not considered good 
form to refuse a cigar.’ 

“I do not know how long Lester could have withstood 
the current, but better influences are ajt work now.’ 
Philip stirred up the business men to fit commodious 
rooms for the struggling Young Men’s Christian Asso- 
ciation here, and most of the college boys and young 
railroad men have joined it, and I think Lester will 
come out all right. The Secretary had been a railroad 

172 


WHAT THEY THINK OF US. 

clerk, and he is influential, and he is strong’ly opposed 
to tobacco as well as drink.” 

The conversation passed to other topics, and Lucy was 
telling of her work among the poor, and remarked: 
“One of my experiences will interest you. I visited a 
poor family, of whom I had heard. The woman was 
faded and frowzy. The one room in which they lived 
was redolent with steamy suds, crowded and disorderly. 
The sick husband sat in an old rocker, as untidy as 
his wife, and several puny children huddled behind the 
stove. There was something familiar about their faces, 
as they talked, and I caught them studying my face. 
When the husband told me his name, it came to me. 
It was Ned Grimes, and Mattie.” 

“Is it possible?” 

“Yes. I learned that Ned, after working in the shops 
at Eudora several years, had shifted around, until he' 
opened a little repair shop in this city. They had done 
fairly well for awhile, till Ned got heart disease, and 
then Mattie had to take in washing. Ned’s mother, and 
Mattie’s parents were dead, and the little property, left 
by her father, had been used up long ago. One of the 
neighbors, a man named Jones, told me some other 
facts. He said that Ned was a great smoker, and bet 
a cigar maker he could smoke the largest cigar they 
could make. One Fourth of July morning, when there 
was a crowd around, he brought Ned a big cigar, half 
as long as his arm. Ned smoked until it was nearlly 
gone. Throwing down the stump, he said: T’ve won 
the bet,’ and went into the shop. But Mr. Jones had 
observed that he was very pale, and followed him. He 
found him unconscious, on the floor, and called in the 
cigar maker. The latter would not allow a doctor called, 
for fear of arrest. They finally resuscitated Ned, but he 
was sick several days, and it was a week before he could 
go to work. The neighbors thought he had been on a 


173 


COFFIN NAIFS : THF STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

Spree, but Mr. Jones said he had not drank a drop that 
day, and he did not think he ever drank. He had some 
trouble with his heart before, but, from that time it was 
so weak he soon had to give up work. One day Philip 
went with me, and talked with Ned about religion. But 
he exclaimed: ‘I am not going to die. Look at these 
children. I must live to take care of them. I am getting- 
better. I will be able to work in a few weeks. Some 
day, when I get stronger, I will come and hear you 
preach.’ I had taken the baby, while Mattie hung out 
her clo'^es. Suddenly Ned arose with a cry of pain. 
Philip sprang to him, but he sank back in his chair' — 
gasped for breath — and, before I could call Mattie in, he 
was gone. She would not believe he was dead, but kept 
rubbing his hands, calling his name, and begging us to 
do something for him. When she realized that he was 
dead, she burst into such a paroxysm of grief, and clung 
to me SO' pitifully, that I staid with her until all was over. 
Ned’s sister came tO' the funeral, and took Mattie and 
her children home with her.” 

“Poor Mattie! I remember how disdainfully she 
tossed her head, in those old days, when we asked her 
to join our anti-tobacco' society.” 

With the evening, came the husband and children. 
Miss McGregor found Rev. Philip Dayton a thoughtful 
earnest man, one of the few men who were earnestly 
contending against intemperance, and all other evils that 
threatened the morality of the community. Mrs. Dayton 
had invited Mr. Bowen, the Y. M. C. A. secretary, to 
call on Miss McGregor. With him came Mr. Kemp, a 
young man who had recently been employed as an ath- 
letic trainer at the college. A little later two college 
students, Mirza Hassan, a Persian, and Hirosha Okuma, 
a Japanese, called on Lester. Finding Mr. Bowen, and 
Mr. Kemp there, they also remained in the parlor. After 
some general conversation, Mr. Bowen turned to Miss 


174 


WHAT THEY THINK OF US. 

McGregor, saying: “I understand that you lecture 
against tobacco, as well as against intemperance.” 

”To be sure. And I am glad to hear that you hate 
the weed, too.” 

“Yes, I was well trained, but when I attended business 
college at Kansas City, cigars were sO' fashionable that 
1 concluded my parents were old fogies, and I learned to 
smoke. But we had an object lesson there that taught 
me I could not afford it.” 

“Indeed! What was it?” 

“In our Y. M. C. A. there we had access to one of the 
best small libraries I ever saw. I learned that it was 
loaned to us by one of the ministers of the city. He 
stated that he had been a cigar smoker, but was fond of 
reading. So he quit smoking, and spent as much for 
books each month as he had spent for cigars, and in 
fifteen years had over a thousand volumes. Here is the 
catalogue, I was showing it to the boys,” he said, draw- 
ing it from his pocket, and they looked through it. 

“What a large and varied collection,” said Miss Mc- 
Gregor. 

“And such valuable books,” was Mr. Dayton’s com- 
ment. 

Then the young folks examined it, keeping up a con- 
versation among themselves. Their attention was final!}’ 
arrested by hearing Mr. Bowen say : “The counsel for 
the oldest Fidelity Surety Company in the country told 
me recently that his company will not bond a man ad- 
dicted to cigarettes.” 

“Is that a Life Insurance Company?” asked Lester. 

“No, it is one of the companies that hunts up men’s 
diaracter, and gives bonds for their behavior, to rail- 
roads and other business firms, if they find him reliable. 
One of the questions they have always asked, was : “Does 
he smoke?’ If he did, that counted off something, but, 
if his character was good in other respects, that did not 


175 


COFFIN NAIFS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

deter them from bonding him. But, they have observed 
that they have had to pay bonds for more smokers than 
non-smokers, and decided not to insure cigarette smok- 
ers.” 

“That is the vantage you business men have over the 
reformers, whose only power is their ‘gift of gab,’ ” re- 
marked Miss McGregor. 

“But you temperance people gave us the information 
that called our attention to these facts,” replied Mr. 
Bowen. 

“And we are content to be the ‘power behind the 
throne.’ ” 

“When I was in a railroad office,” he continued, “the 
General Freight Agent employed two hundred clerks, of 
whom thirty-two were cigarette smokers. He found 
that eighty-five per cent of the mistakes made in the 
office were made by these, thirty-two smokers, and he 
decided not to hire any more of them.” 

“Business men generally are ruling them out,” said 
Mr. Dayton. 

“The smokers are about ruled out of athletics, too,” 
said Mr. Kemp. “That was what broke me of cigarette 
smoking, they had no use for me, even on the High 
Senool team, unless I would quit cigarettes.” 

“The boys were talking about it at school today,” put 
in Lester. “Some of them said cigarette smokers were 
short winded, and made fumbles, but they said cigars 
didn’t hurt anything.” 

“They’re mistaken there. They may allow cigar 
smoking in High School, and on some of the smaller 
college teams, but they don’t on any of the university 
teams. I thought I would be manly, and changed from 
cigarettes to cigars. But I had learned to inhale the 
smoke, and, to save my neck, I couldn’t smoke a cigar 

176 


WHAT THEY THINK OF US. 

without inhaling the smoke, and it was too much for my 
lungs, I couldn’t endure it, and I gave it up.’’ 

“That shows,” returned Dr. McGregor, “that the 
c.uef reason cigarettes are more injurious than cigars, is 
the habit of inhaling the smoke into the lungs. It would 
not take long for a man to kill himself, if he inhaled 
cigar smoke.” 

“The boys here are behind the times,” resumed Mr. 
Kemp. “They became greatly excited because I told 
them that if I organized a track team, any boy who 
touched liquor or tobacco between now and field day 
would be dropped. They tried to bluff me by telling 
me I would have no team. But I mean what I say.” 

“Bravo for you!” exclairned Mr. Bowen. 

“I know what I am talking about,” continued Mr. 
Kemp. A. A. Stag, coach and trainer for Chicago Uni- 
versity, says : ‘At the University of Chicago the athletic 
department has been unalterably opposed, from the be- 
ginning, to the use of tobacco and intoxicating liquors 
by the athletes, while in training. The use of tobacco by 
athletes in training, is almost universally regarded as 
harmful by coaches and trainers of athletic teams.” 

“And,” added Miss McGregor, “Mrs. Beauchamp, 
one of our national lecturers, said that Mr. Andrews, the 
teacher of physicial culture at Yale, who trained all of 
the boating crews, told her that not a single cigar, nor 
a single glass of beer was now allowed to be used by the 
contestants, from the day they entered the lists in Sep- 
tember, to the time of the races in June. If a young 
man drank a single glass of beer, or smoked a single 
cigar, his name was stricken from the list. ‘Why, mad- 
am,’ he said, ‘such steadiness of nerve, such power of 
heartbeat is required, that a single cigar, six months be- 
forehand, might cause us to lose the races.’ ” 

“Thank you, I was sure it was so,” returned Mr. 

177 


COFFIN NAIFS : THF STORY OF JANE m'GREGOR 

Kemp, “but I had not heard from there yet. The boys 
were inclined to doubt my word, so I wrote to various 
colleges, and have received statements similar to that 
from the presidents or trainers of nearly a dozen of our 
largest colleges and universities.” 

“I guess the boys will give in,” said Lester, “when 
they hear all that testimony.” 

“I see one of the college boys has had a misfortune 
on account of smoking,” said Mr. Dayton. 

“How so? Of whom do you speak?” 

“Tom Norton. I met him today, on his return from 
the oculist’s.” 

“O yes, I knew he had the misfortune to go blind in 
one eye, but I had not connected it with his smoking.” 

“It is a singular case. He said that he had not felt any 
pain or weakness, but one morning, when he awoke, that 
eye was totally blind.” 

“Did the oculist give him any hope?” 

“No', He said that it is what is called amaurosis, that 
the optic nerve is dead, and that it was caused by his 
smoking. The oculist told him that he had many cases 
of amaurosis, either total or partial, and that they were 
nearly all caused by tobacco, that Where they were partial 
the disuse of tobacco cured them, but where they were 
total, there was no cure ; and that he had many other 
cases of weak eyes caused by tobacco; and that the 
Americans, like the Germans, were fast becoming a 
spectacled nation, on account of the immediate and in- 
herited effects of tobacco.” 

“Oh! That is sad for poor Tom!” exclaimed Emma. 

“And he was so anxious to finish college next year,” 
added Lester. “Did you ever know such a case. Dr. 
McGregor?” 

“Yes, I have had many cases. I am not an oculist, 
but out of thirty-five cases that I have sent to oculists for 

178 


WHAT THEY THINK OE US. 

treatment, in the last few years, thirty-four were caused 
by tobacco.” 

“I read a statement,” said Mrs. Dayton, “from the 
Supt. of the Western Pennsylvania Institute for the 
Blind, that tobacco caused a great part of the weak eyes 
and blindness.” 

“No doubt, and color blindness, too,” returned Miss 
McGregor. “There was so much color blindness in Bel- 
gium that they could scarcely find enough who were free 
from it to manage the railroads. The government ap- 
pointed experts to study the cause. After months of in- 
vestigation, they reported that it was tobacco, and orders 
were issued forbidding boys to use it.” 

“How do things look when people have color-blind- 
ness?” asked Emma. 

“In that which results from the use of tobacco, the pa- 
tient usually takes red to be brown or black, and green 
to be light blue or orange. Oculists tell us that when 
they throw the light of the magnifying glass on the ret- 
ina of the eye, they can tell at once when the patient is 
addicted to tobacco. In the early stages the eye is 
merely congested, but, if the habit is not abandoned, 
gradual paralysis of the optic nerve follows.” 

“Miss McGregor, does tobacco cause cancer?” asked 
Emma. “You know they said Mr. Grant’s cancer was 
caused by tobacco.” 

“Not primarily. But tobacco users have cancer oft- 
ener than others, especially about the mouth and throat, 
because the irritated condition of the mucous membrane 
gives a lodgment tO' the cancer germs. The tobacco also 
poisons the blood so that its effete particles feed the 
cancerous growth.” 

“Dr. McGregor, why do doctors use tobacco, if it is 
so dangerous?” asked Lester. “The boys said they had 
to use it in the dissecting room, because it was a disin- 


179 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

fectant, so they wouldn’t get blood-poisoned. Is that 
so?” 

“No. That was an old notion, but as many smoking- 
doctors have blood-poison as non-smokers. Surgeons 
observe that wounds heal quicker on those whose blood 
is pure, than on tobacco users. Most of the tobacco 
using doctors learn the habit before they study medicine. 
There is much that is unpleasant in a physician’s life, 
and some learn to use it, or continue its use, because, by 
benumbing the nerves, it deadens their sensitiveness to 
unpleasant sensations. But, by thus deadening their 
senses, they become less capable of judging the symp- 
toms of disease. In all surgical clinics which I attended, 
tobacco was forbidden in the room.” 

“I heard, before I left Chicago,” said Mr. Kemp, “that 
two cigarette smokers had taken the leprosy. Tobacco 
does not cause leprosy, does it?” 

“No, but much of the rice paper used for high priced 
cigarettes comes from China, where it is often handled 
by lepers. There are a hundred and fifty cases of lep- 
rosy among the cigarette smokers of San Francisco.” 

“That is terrible!” exclaimed Emma. “They ought 
to imprison cigarette smokers.” 

Turning to the young foreigners, who had been in- 
terested, but silent, listeners, because no one had ad- 
dressed them directly during this discussion. Miss Mc- 
Gregor asked the Persian, whose black eyes were spark- 
ling with interest : “Mr. Hassan, do they use tobacco 
in your country?” 

“They use it one little, not mooch, not mooch, like 
American.” 

“Do they chew, or smoke?” 

“Chew? No, no,” with an expression of great dis- 
gust. “Too — too — nasty. I saw no one man chew till 
I saw American. American chew mooch, spit, spit — 

i8o 


WHAT THEY THINK OE US. 


bah!” with another expression of disgust. “In my coom 
try some men smoke one little, long pipe, stem bent 
around, so,” motioning with his hand. “Smoke go 
through water, not mooch strong, not make mooch sick. 
Some man no smoke one little. Some man smoke one 
time, two time, one day, when coom home dinner, when 
coom home night. Take pipe, sit in court — what you 
call her? — back porch. Walls hide, not any see, smoke 
one little, put pipe away. No smoke in parlor, no smoke 
in street, not smoke in shop — what you call her? — store, 
no smoke at work, like American. American no — what 
you call him ? gentleman. Smoke, smoke, all time, smoke 
all place, bah!” 

“Are your people healthy?” asked Miss McGregor. 

“Mooch healthy, not mooch sick. Old man, old lady, 
some hundred, some ninety old. Not mooch old Amer- 
ican ; he veree mooch sick.” 

“Thank you for your information.” Turning to the 
Japanese, she asked : “Mr. Okuma, how long has to- 
bacco been used in your country?” 

“Two, three hundred years. Our great Tokugawa 
Mikado made edicts on bridge, on river, Tokio city, no 
on must use poison smoke. Some quit, some keep on 
secret. Some smoke now.” 

“Do they chew tobacco in Japan?” 

“Oh, no!” looking as disgusted as the Persian had 
done. We think Americans who chew not polite — beg 
pardon, madam.” 

“Do not fear to hurt our feelings. What do your 
people really think of ps?” 

“They think Americans who chew are barbarians — 
not good society fit for, beg pardon. Good society not 
speak what you call spit — spittoon, beg pardon,” and 
the young man looked embarrassed, as though he had 
committed a breach of etiquette. 

i8i 


COFFIN NAIFS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

“How do they smoke in Japan?'" asked Mrs. Dayton. 

“They smoke pipe, bamboo, so long,” measuring- 
about a foot, “one little cup, iron, sometime silver, large 
like one lady little finger thimble. Fill little cup half 
full, light with coal, puff two time, three time — take off 
cup, lay away in box. Never smoke, smoke, like Amer- 
icans — beg pardon, lady."’ 

“Do the ladies ever sfnoke?” 

“Yes, beg pardon. Good manners must offer guest 
pipe. Take twO' puffs — three puffs — ^bad manners 
smoke many puffs — give pipe back, and put away in 
box.” 

“Do they ever smoke cigars or cigarettes?” 

“American merchants bring cigars and cigarettes. 
Put big ugly pictures by fine trees, big woods — ^what fine 
cigars, what fine gifts. Teach boys to smoke. Many 
learn, and our' people sad.” 

“Have they not passed a law against smoking cigar- 
ettes?”. 

“Yes, madam. Sho Nemote come to American col- 
lege, and see cigarettes make boys sick. Go hpme to 
Japan, tell our people be careful, cigarettes bad. He 
talk and talk. Our rulers make law no boy smoke cig- 
arettes or tobacco till he be twenty. So all teachers 
make one big day, and burn own pipes, boys bring pipes 
and cigarettes — burn all, one big fire. No more smoke. 
Mikado say law must be obeyed.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


An Inspiring Audience. 


T he president of a W. C. T. U. convention intro- 
duced Miss Dr. McGregor. The little red headed 
girl whom we knew in Eudora, had developed 
into a matronly woman, somewhat iwrtly, but active 
and robust. Her pug nose had grown stronger in out- 
line, and the years that had faded the apple red of her 
cheeks, had added a tone of brown to her hair. Pier 
mouth was still large, but her earnest unselfish life had 
chiseled her face with lines of intellectual strength, and 
kindly sympathy. 

Back in the audience sat a well preserved man of 
about fifty, beside a stylish lady. When the speaker was 
introduced, he seemed, the next moment, to be on the 
prairies of the west, shooting at prairie dogs, as they 
tumbled into their holes, and watching a distant bunch 
of cattle, in the vain delusion that they were buffaloes. 
Recalling his thoughts, he began to listen. 

The speaker seemed slightly embarrassed, at first, for, 
before her sat a large audience of representative Wash- 
ington people, besides delegat^^^s from all parts of the 
land. But she was soon so deeply interested in her 
subject that she forgot herself. 

After describing the various disastrous consequences 
of the narcotic habits, she asked : “Do you think I ex- 
aggerate? Nay, rather, I skimp the truth, lest you 
doubt my word.'’ 

The gentleman, who had failed to catch the speaker’s 

183 


COFFIN NAILS : FHE STORY OF JANE M GREGOR 

name, just then glanced at his program, and saw it„ 
Again the wide expanse of billowy prairie, rolling away 
toward the setting sun, crossed his mental vision; but, 
this time, a little red-headed girl, galldping her ponv. 
entered the vision. He smiled, as the recollection took 
shape, saying to himself : “It is that Scotch name which 
recalls that little episode of my hunting excursion, hut 
what’s in a name?” 

“Do you tell me,” asked the speaker, “that our fathers 
used liquor and tobacco, and lived to a good old age? 
Some did, and some did not. The hereditary effects of 
physical sins exceed their present effects. Nations, as 
well as individuals, bring destruction on themselves by 
the inherited accumulation of evil propensities. No 
words can picture, no figures can measure the suffering 
that has been wrought by narcotics. Like a lair of wild 
beasts they breed a savage brood — wickedness in every 
form. And when I speak of narcotics, I include alcohol, 
which is the chief of narcotics. Narcotism is the curse 
of civilization, or rather of semi-civilization, for true 
Christian civilization will drive these devouring beasts 
from the face of the earth. Let these sleuths once hound 
a nation, and, only by arming for self-defense, can it 
escape the jaws of destruction. It is the same story from 
olden time to our own day. Judea was the home of the 
wild grape, and the Canaanites made it a land of drunk- 
enness. Babylon fell in the midst of a drunken carousal. 
Wine was the ruin of Persia, Greece and Egypt. Xerxes, 
,\lexander and Cleopatra ended their careers in maudlin 
debauch. Rome plundered the world to revel in wealth, 
and fell, corrupt with besotted licentiousness. For ages 
northwestern Asia was peopled by a race of savages, 
fierce and cruel, but strong and robust, because of their 
simple, primitive habits. Century after century, tribe 
after tribe, Huns and Scythians, Goths and Vandals, 

184 


AN INSPIRING AUDIENCI*:. 

Franks and Saxons, like a prolific hive, the}^ swarmed 
over Europe. Sturdy, warlike and independent, the} 
hunted wild game, or rudely tilled the soil. But they 
loved their families, held marriage sacred, and scorned 
a lie. These people were our ancestors. They heard of 
the wealth of the South, and, time after time, swooped 
down on the effete civilization of the southern empires 
with devastating fury. From the conquered races they 
learned both civilization and dissipation. The taste of 
wine they first learned from the Roman soldiers. Pre- 
vious to that time they made only a rude beer, which 
they drank while fresh. During the feudal ages the 
many were poor peasantry, while the few were rich lords. 
We read of kings and soldiers, barons and retainers, ca- 
rousing on wine and beer. But such luxuries were not 
for the peasants, who were so poor they could barel}' 
afford barley bread. The soldiers were killed off by 
drink or war, and most of the families of the old nobility 
are extinct. The despised peasants, whose poverty de- 
nied them the pleasures of the wassail bowl, are the fore- 
fathers of our modern nations. It is only in the last 
three or four centuries that the great mass of the common 
people of northern Europe and of America have been 
able to afford strong drink. Among the southern na- 
tions, where wine was cheap and luxury common, there 
has been constant degeneracy. Had it not been for the 
frequent influx of new vigor from their hardy northern 
conquerors, they would have long since perished off the 
earth. 

“Four hundred years ago Spain ruled the old world and 
the new. Energized by the frequent immigration of 
northern colonies, and the admixture of vigorous Moor- 
ish blood, Spain had won wealth and power, both by war 
and commerce. But the greedy Spaniards not only rob- 
bed the new world of its gold, but carried home a plant 

185 


COFFIN NAIFS : THE STORY OF JANE m'GKEGOR 

that proved their own ruin. They took tobacco seeds 
home at first as curiosities. But a Spaniard named Man- 
ardes, made his fortune by advertising the plant as a 
cure-all for every known disease. Santa Croce did the 
same in Italy. The French ambassador told his queen, 
Catherine de Medecis, of Manardes' enterprise. vShe set 
the fashion for all Europe by learning to use it herself, 
and published wonderful stories of its miraculous healing* 
lX)wers. She had the royal estates planted with it, and 
prohibited any but government officers from raising it, 
and filled her empty treasury by its sale. The English 
and Spanish governments took pattern, and obtained 
great revenue by licensing men to raise and sell it. It 
thus became the fashion among the nobility and well-to- 
do people. Spain was so wealthy that even the common 
people could afford luxuries, and smoking became a na- 
tional habit. Look at Spain now, her people are weak, 
cowajdly and ignorant. Her commerce has passed to 
other lands. Her world-wide possessions have slipped 
from her powerless fingers. In other parts of Europe, 
the common people were too poor to indulge in so costly 
a luxury, and it is only in the last two hundred years 
that tobacco has been cheap enough to be used bv the 
great mass of the common people. The Virginia colo- 
nists soon began to raise the weed, hut by the Puritans 
it was despised. Cromwell forbade its use in England, 
and William Penn in Pennsylvania. The Puritans who 
settled Boston, petitioned in 1630, that no tobacco be 
planted in that colony, and the New England colonies 
passed very rigid laws against its use. 

“We see that, at the worst, we have not more than 
twelve of fifteen generations of alcoholism, and eight or 
nine generations of tobacco rising ancestors behind us. 
But, even in that length of time, the physical dereriora- 
tion of the race would have been much more rapid, liad it 

186 


AN INSPIRING' AUDIENCE. 

not been for the continual infusion of fresh blood from 
families free from these poisons. The injury already 
done is plain to any observing student of sociology. 

“With the large increase in popular hygeinic intelli- 
gence, and the great improvements in surgery, medical 
science, and sanitary conditions, the average length of 
life ought to increase rapidly. But the • increase, though 
slight, is very slow, only five years in the la-t fifty years. 
I find, from the last census, that there have been, since 
1890, a gre?c decrease b deaths from consuo’ption, bow- 
el troubles, diphtheria and fevers, in fact fron. all germ 
diseases. But there has been a large increase in heart 
diseases, kidney diseases, apoplexy, insanity and various 
brain and nervous diseases, which are caused or aggra- 
\'ated by the use of narcotics. 

“But this wide swath of disease is not the only crop 
harvested from these noxious seeds. Narcotics are the 
cause of nine-tenths of the crime in the world. A few 
years ago the English Parliament appointed a commis- 
sion, who made, a careful investigation of the effects of 
liquor, with these results : It caused nine-tenths of the 
paupers ; three-fourths of the criminals ; one-third of the 
insanity ; three-fourths of the depravity of children and 
youth, and one-third of the shipwrecks and fatal acci- 
dents. A terrible indictment ! But alcohol is not ^he 
only dangerous narcotic that menaces our nation. Opium 
and tobacco also cause crime and degeneracy. To see 
the effects of opium one has but tO' look at China. Less 
than a thousand years ago the vigorous, powerful Turks 
swept over western Asia, and for five centuries kept Eu- 
rope in terror. As Mohammedans, they have never 
f-duched alcoholic drinks, but they learned the tobacco 
habit from Spain, through the Moorish Arabs, and be- 
came noted smokers. They have so degenerated that to- 
day they are known as the lazy good-for-nothing Turks. 

187 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE m'GKEGOR 

The Jews have avoided both the drink and tobacco hab- 
its, and, more than other nations, they have kept their 
vigor, being longer lived than either Turks or Christians. 
Twenty-seven Jews reach seventy, where thirteen Christ- 
ians reach that age. The Jews lose only ten per cent, of 
their children, where the Christians lose seventeen per 
cent. Atlhough living in their midst, the Jews escaped 
the terrible plagues that ravaged various parts of Europe 
in 1326, 1505, 1691, and 1736. But their rabbis bewail 
the fact that many of their wealthy Jews are, of late 
years, falling into these vices, and are fast degenerating 
in body and mind. 

The New York Medical Journal says: “When the 
Europeans first visited New Zealand, they found the na- 
tives the most finely developed and powerful men among* 
the islands of the Pacific. Since the introduction of to- 
bacco, for which they developed a passionate liking, they 
have, from this source alone become decimated in num- 
bers, and so reduced in stature and physical well-being, 
as to be an altogether inferior type of men.’ 

“The Rev. Frances Wayland, in a letter from Cuba, 
speaking of the smoking habit, said : ‘The effect of this 
indulgence is apparent to the most casual observer. The 
race is dwindling, mind and body. Several Cubans con- 
fessed to me that this was the prime cause of the general 
degeneracy of the human species in the island.’ 

“Rev. Dr. Shuntz, writing from the Philippines, stated 
that little boys and girls were seen smoking, betting and 
fighting on the street before they were old enough to go 
to school. He added : T am satisfied that this smoking 
from infancy is responsible for the short stature of the 
people, and their lazy, stupid, addle-headed way of bung- 
ling at whatever they try to do. They lack vitality. They 
burn it up by their everlasting cigar and cigarette smok- 
ing.’ 


AN INSPIRING AUDIENCE. 

"‘A noted French physician said, not long since: ‘Re- 
niember I am a Frenchman, but I am more doctor than 
Frenchman, and I deplore the fact that the health of the 
people I love most is so obviously degenerating. We 
have inherited all the vices of our forefathers, and with 
them their physical ills, and ills brought forth by those 
vices. * * We allow our children to drift on in 

the same channel. How can we expect anything else but 
even stronger passions, more concentrated vices, as the 
immediate result of our own physical degeneration?’ 

“The German government appointed a commission, a 
few years ago, to learn the cause of the increasing disa- 
l)ilities that debarred so many young men from the army. 
They learned, after much investigation, that the troubles 
were caused by drink and tobacco. In a pam')hlet issued 
by the German War Department, it was stated that the 
number of soldiers with heart disease, in 1885, was only 
one and five-tenths per thousand, but in 1898 the number 
was seventeen and five-tenths per thousand. Both France 
and Germany, fearing scarcity of soldiers, are checking 
the use of tobacco by boys with a strong hand. 

“At a debate in the English Parliament a year or two 
ago, attention was called to the terrible physical deterio- 
ration of the English people, especially the lower class, 
and they appointed a committee to investigate the causes. 
.After spending many months in examining the causes, 
the committee reported, laying great stress on alcohol 
and tobacco, as the chief causes of the physical deteriora- 
tion. The London papers tell of the concern being every- 
where expressed over the spread of the cigarette in Eng- 
land. The people are earnestly taking up the fight 
against it. A manifesto has been issued, which was 
signed by the most eminent scientific and ecclesiastical 
dignitaries, as well as eminent physicians, prominent mil- 
itary officers, and members of Parliament. It calls at- 

189 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

tention to the demoralizing extent of the habit, and fills 
an entire page of the London Times. The London 
Chronicle said of the report : Tf the people, as a whole, 
are deteriorating, we must change our ways, or give up 
the national struggle. And if the masses of the people 
are going down hill in physique, we may be quite sure 
they are going down hill in character, as well.' 

“Even old Spain has taken the alarm. The Spanish 
Minister of the Interior has lately introduced a bill in 
the Spanish Cortez, to prohibit the use of cigarettes by 
minors. In his preamble, he states that the Spanish 
people, on account of their slavery to tobacco, are rap- 
idly deteriorating, and that this bill is for the purpose 
of arresting racial deterioriation.. 

“But so rapid has been the increase in the amount of 
tobacco used in this country in the last few years, that, 
if we do not call a halt, we will soon have the unen- 
viable reputation of being one of the worst tobacco- 
using nations on the face of the earth. More than seven 
hundred and fifty million pounds ,a year of this poison- 
ous weed bodes rapid degenracy to our notion. Prof. 
Seaver, Physical Director of Yale College, said recently 
of tobacco : Tt is a demoralizing influence only, and 
our race cannot afford to undo the moral stamina that 
has been the product of generations of high endeavor.’ 

“When you pile up together barrel upon barrel, box 
upon box, all of the alcohol, all of the tobacco, the 
opium, the cocaine, the chloral and all of the patent 
medicines containing these drugs, that are used by the 
American people, you have such a mountain of i>oison 
as never before tainted the blood of any nation under 
the sun. 

“It has long been known that alcohol stimulated the 
animal passions, and aroused them prematurely in grow- 
ing boys ; and opium is even more debasing .than alcohol. 


AN INSPIRING AUDIENCE. 

Tobacco not only leads toward stronger narcotics, but, 
in a lesser degree, its effects simulate those of opium. 

“One has onl}^ to visit the slums of our great cities, 
and see the smoking, the drunkenness, the debauchery, 
and note the deformities of the children — the large pro- 
portion of the blind, the crippled, the idiotic — to feel 
the truth of the Bible saying: ‘The iniquities of the 
fathers shall be visited on the children unto the third 
and fourth generations.’ 

“Dr. Piddock said of the tobacco habit. ‘The 
enervation, the hysteria, the insanity, the dwarfish 
propensities, the consumption, the suffering lives 
and early deaths of the children of invet- 
erate users — bear ample testimony to the feebleness and 
unsoundness of the constitution transmitted by this per- 
nicious habit.’ 

“I admit that there are thousands of tobacco users 
who have the moral stamina to resist the temptations 
of vice and alcohol, but every parent who uses tobacco, 
makes it easier for the next generation to slip over the 
line into lewdness or drunkenness. Many an upright 
man who thinks that tobacco does not hurt him, entails 
upon his children excitable animal passions, and weak- 
ened will power, and goes down to his grave in sorrow, 
lamenting a son’s dissipation, or a daughter’s ruin. 

“Impurity of life, and the frequent divorces, which 
are a natural consequence, are threatening the home. 
We are taught that it takes five generations of pure 
living to clean out the taint of vile diseases from the 
blood of the descendants of a wicked man, and few 
know how widespread are their vitiating effects, or how 
often they send death or debility to the unborn child. 
People prate of race suicide, heaping the blame on the 
selfish mothers ; but the fathers must share the blame. 
Yet, in the face of these bitter results, we keep on nur- 
turing the habits that breed depravity. 


COFFIN nails: the story of jane M^GKEGOsR 

“We are sometimes horrified at the brutality of the 
blacks. What wonder? Bred by generations of de- 
praved ignorance, and born of mothers whose virtue 
knew no protection. We are equally horrified at the 
barbarity of their punishment. And there are thousands 
of whites in the slums, almost equally degraded. And 
by drink, tobacco and license, both classes are redoubling 
their viciousness with each generation. 

“Prosperity is more perilous for a nation than pov- 
erty. Our wealthy few ape the vices of foreign aristoc- 
racy, and the ignorant poor ape the vices of the idle, 
dissipated rich. In our cities, so-called good society is 
often little better than the vileness of the slums. The 
dance, the theatre, the wine cup and the card table are 
common amusements. Women vie with men in wicked- 
ness, and sneer at purity and religion. I am told that 
some societv women are becoming so coarse that even 
cigarette smoking is stylish, and that they frequent race- 
courses, and vie with their brothers in betting and swear- 
ing. Money oppears to veneer vice with respectability. 
Our republic is a great tree, dying at the top. Has it 
vigor enough to lop off these rotten limbs? Is there not 
enough of vitality in our professed Christianity to save 
our land from tlie fate of pagan nations? I appeal to 
you, the thoughtful educated people of the land. Ban- 
ish the wine cup, the gambling table, and the cigar from 
good society. Ostracise every immoral man or woman, 
no matter how wealthy. Make temperance and purity 
fashionable. Then, and not till then, can we stem 
this tide of wickedness. 

“Men declaim and legislate about silver and gold, 
tariff and free trade, as though the life of the nation 
hung in the balance. But character is greater than 
wealth, manhood and womanhood more precious than 


192 


AIs" INSPIRING AUDIENCE. 

silver and gold, and the improvement of the race a far 
more vital question than material prosperity. 

“Men prate of personal liberty, and deny the right of 
the state to interfere with their habits. Self-defense is 
the right of nations, as of individuals. A nation has the 
right to forbid any habit that tends to crime, just as it 
has the right to quarantine against disease, or to confis- 
cate an enemy's goods in time of war. 

“With the whole baneful list of narcotics banished 
from the market, we could hope to start the next gene- 
ration of children on the up-grade toward a higher type 
of morality. I believe in children’s rights. I believe in 
a child’s right to the protection of the nation. I believe 
in a child’s right to be born with a sound mind in a 
sound body. I ])elieve in a child’s right to start in life 
without being handicapped by perverted appetites, or 
inherent propensities to evil. It is the duty of the state 
to so train and educate its young men and women, as 
to fit them for the duties of parentage. I believe the 
day will eome when no person who inherits insanity, or 
serious disease, or who uses liquor, opium, or tobacco, 
will be granted a marriage license. I believe the day 
Avill come when people will look back with pitying horror 
on these days, when men enticed children with showy 
premiums to buy deadly poisons. They will regard this 
as a barbarous age, when parents were allowed to inflict 
disease and stupidity on their innocent ofifspring. 

“There is no barbarism like the barbarism of civiliza- 
tion. We are horrified at the savage cruelty of the scalp- 
ing Indian. We are shocked at the barbarity of the 
Chinese Boxers. But our so-called Christian land is full 
of heathen, who worship no God but gold. The selfish 
greed that scrabbles for luxury, heedless of the misery 
of others, is the crying sin of our nation. They heap 
up gold by the sale of liquor, knowing that it causes 


193 


COFFIN NAIFS I THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

misery, crime and death. Add to these the venders of 
tobacco and narcotic drugs, and you have an army, vaster 
and more heartless than the Boxer hordes. Right here 
in civilized America, seventy thousand men, women and 
children, are, every year, tortured to death, with a cold- 
blooded atrocity, that puts the savage to shame. Have 
you ever stood by the drunkard, and heard his frantic 
appeals to be saved from the devilish monsters that are 
tearing him to pieces in his awful delirium? Have you 
ever seen the bitter tears, and heard the pitiful prayers, 
of the drunkard’s wife, as she struggles in vain to save 
her once noble husband from shame and degredation? 
Have you ever found the drunkard’s child — ragged, 
starving, pinched with cold — dying with the slow suffer- 
ing of neglected disease? Have you ever stood by the 
bedside of a boy dying of some painful disease brought 
on by cigarette smoking, and heard his groans, and 
pleadings for help? Have you ever seen the agonies 
of the opiurn fiend, when his poisoned nerves could no 
longer be soothed? Then, and not till then, will you 
realize the barbarism of our country in allowing the 
sale of these deadly poisons.” 


T94 


CHAPTER XX. 


After Many Years. 


A t the close of the session, the gentleman who had 
appeared so much innterested, said to the lady 
beside him: “You were disappointed because you 
were too late to entertain any of the delegates, this lady 
has just arrived, you might invite her.” 

A few minutes later, as the lecturer was surrounded 
by friends, a lady said: “Miss McGregor, let me pre- 
sent to you Mrs. Hammerton, and Senator ,” in 

the confusion of an adjourned audience, she did not 
catch the last name, but, as the names sounded alike, 
she inferred that he was the lady’s hrusband. Mrs. 
Hammerton gave her a warm invitation, which was 
readily accepted. A short ride brought them 
to a beautiful home. After a brief season of rest, she 
was summoned to dinner, where the Senator introduced 
her to an attractive girl as his daughter Eva, and Mrs. 
Hammerton pushed forward two timid little girls as, 
“My little ones, Joy and Peace.” 

The hostess apologized for some omission in the din- 
ner on the plea that they had just returned from their 
summer outing. 

“I have noted no lack,” replied the guest. 

“We spend the summer on my farm, and Mary has 
been worrying lest we miss this convention,” said the 
Senator. 

“Yes,” added the hostess. “I prefer reform and char- 
itable work to society.” 


195 


COFFIN NAIFS : THF STORY OF JANE m'GKEGOK 

“A wise choice/’ replied the guest. “Both fashion s 
devotees and the Marthas who worship their houses^ 
leave undone vital work for the world’s welfare.” 

“I was pleased with your address,’’ said the Senator. 
“I quit the use of the weed years ago, and have observed 
its evil effects on others. It is refreshing to have the 
searchlight turned on fashionable vice.” 

“It would astonish one from the smaller towns to see 
the amount of wine drinking among women in the large 
cities,” said Mrs. Hammerton. 

“And how about cigarette smoking among ladies?” 

“There is little of it here, not nearly as much as in 
New York. Ladies’ cigarettes are sold extensively there, 
especially among the wealthy foreigners. Cigarette par- 
ties are a fad, where the hostess furnishes the cigarettes, 
marked with her monogram. I heard of one lady who 
has all her cigarettes made to order, and her monogram 
in gold stamped on them.” 

“What travesties on womanhood! From a remark 
you made awhile ago, Mrs. Hammerton, I presume you 
have traveled abroad. Is there much cigarette smoking 
among ladies in Europe?’' 

“In Spain, men, women and children smoke cigarettes, 
and we were annoyed by people smoking in the cars, 
even in the sleepers. In the exhilerating mountain cli- 
mate of Spain I had expected to find a superior race, 
physically, at least, but I saw more cases of deformity, 
paralysis, and prematurely wrinkled and withered men 
and women than I ever saw before. We spoke of it at 
the time, and wondered if it was caused by their 
smoking. In Germany we occasionally saw women 
smoking, not only cigarettes, but cigars, in the smart 
restaurants, but it was not common among the middle 
classes. In France, especially in Paris, cigarette smok- 
ing is quite stylish among the younger ladies, though 

196 


AFTER MANY YEARS. 

we never saw an older lady smoking. It was said they 
learned it from the Russian ladies. I saw little of it in 
England. I was told that a few of the ultra-fashionable 
were starting the style. By the way, when I was in 
Rngland I heard of the worst case of tobacco poisoning 
I ever knew. A well known man, who was something 
of a scientist, called a lawyer, and a witness, and made 
his will. Then he took from his pocket a capsule, and 
crushed it between his teeth — and fell dead before they 
could stop him. A paper was found, stating that he was 
tired of life’s troubles, and had prepared a capsule of 
pure nicotine, in order to commit suicide in the most 
instantaneous manner possible.” 

“To be sure! Nicotine is one of the most deadly 
poisons, and there is nO' antidote for it known to medical 
science.” 

‘‘Do the public men of England smoke?” 

“Many of them do. But Gladstone hated tobacco, and 
no one dared smoke in his presence. Neither Woolsey, 
Lord Roberts, Gen. Buller, nor Gen. Baden Powell smoke. 
Baden Powell is the boy’s hero, and the fact that he op- 
poses smoking is helping to check the evil over there.” 

“Public men will have much to answer for,” said the 
Senator. “Boys, everywhere, pattern after noted men. 
Gen. Grant’s cigar led thousands of boys to smoking.” 

“To be sure. I am glad our present president is too 
much of an athlete to use tobacco. I do not think a man 
ought to accept office unless his life is a model for the 
young,” replied Miss McGregor. 

“You temperance workers are educating the public 
conscience so tha-t the people require their officers to con- 
form to higher standards than formerly. Every election 
relegates some of the old drinkers and tobacco users to 
the rear. Wickedness is still in high places, especially 
among the moneyed class, but the number of public men 

197 


COFFIN NAILS I THE STORY OF JANE m'GREGOR 

with clean temperate habits is increasing, and the intelli- 
gent common people are certainly rising in the scale of 
morality.” 

“But our ideas of morality are strangely crooked yet. 
VVe imprison men for poisoning cattle or sheep, yet 
allow them to sell tobacco and opium to poison human 
beings. We imprison this man for robbery, and hang 
that man for murder, yet license another to sell alcohol, 
which causes scores of robberies and murders.” 

“Manhood is below par, in this mammon-loving coun- 
try,’ returned the Senator. “The Tobacco Trust and 
the Liquor Dealers’ Association keep able attorneys here 
in Washington, to look after their interests in Congress. 
Congressmen pass laws for the benefit of the tobacco 
growers, and discuss, with the gravest concern, treaties 
with other countries, which shall open their markets to 
our liquor and tobacco. All manner of industries and 
all manner of stock are protected, but boys do not seem 
worth protecting.” 

“Yes, these industrits pour gold into our national cof- 
fers. It is so in legislatures, also. The women work 
hard for better laws^ but the trusts manage to influence 
legislators. One legislature defeated an anti-cigarette 
bill, but voted to protect the wild game, increased the 
wolf bounty to protect the sheep, and voted a hundred 
thousand dollars for a new insane asylum. If they had 
passed the anti-cigarette law they probably would not 
have needed the asylum.” 

“But you must not give up. Keep up temperance 
teaching in the schools, and another generation will 
show the effects of your efforts,” he replied. 

Other topics engaged their attention, and the time 
passed pleasantly. Miss McGregor found herself study- 
ing the face of the Senator occasionally, with the im- 
pression that she had seen him before, but she could not 

198 


AFTER MANY YEARS. 

place him. Something in the flash of the eye — some- 
thing in the occasional expression of the face, appeared 
familiar, and the puzzling identity seemed about to re- 
veal itself — then it slunk back to oblivion again, leaving 
her more puzzled than ever. She concluded that he must 
resemble some one she had known. 

After their return from the lecture, the Senator re- 
tired to his library, while the hostess excused herself to 
attend to household matters, leaving their guest with 
Miss Eva. 

“It seems so good to be at home!” exclaimed the girl. 
“They sent me back here when school began, and I was 
boarding until our folks came back to town.” 

“I understand,” replied Miss McGregor. “I remem- 
ber how homesick I was when I first went away to 
school.” 

“This isn’t my fiist trial. I was dreadfully homesick 
when we first came to live with my aunt, after mamma 
died, but I soon learned to love her, and my little cousins 
seem as near as my own sister.” 

“I supposed this was your mamma,” said her visitor. 

“No, she is papa’s sister. My sister is married, and 
we live here in the winter, and aunt lives with us i'n 
the summer.” 

“And your name?” 

“Eva Cameron. I supposed you knew.” Then Miss 
McGregor explained her blunder, and, with a girlish 
laugh, Eva replied : I think it is funny none of us said 
anything tO' expose the mistake.” 

The next morning when Miss McGregor dressed, she 
fastened her morning gown with a cameo brooch, a little 
out of date, but which she still wore occasionally. It 
was a whim of hers that morning that it harmonized with 
that particular gown. At breakfast, while she was con- 
versing with Mrs. Hammerton, the Senator was studying 


199 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

her face with a puzzled expression. Then his eve fell on 
the cameo pin, and a sudden look of intelligence lighted 
his face. He appeared to have solved his riddle, but he 
said nothing. 

After breakfast, as Jane sat reading the morning pa- 
per, she noted the name on the little yellow tab, ‘‘Hon. 
Donald Cameron.” Was this the identity that had puz- 
zled her? Was this the man who rode away out of sight 
in the wide expanse of the prairie? 

A few moments later Senator Cameron stepped into 
the room, smiling, as he held up a cameo pin, so like her 
own, she put her hand to her throat to see if hers was 
lost. 

“The stone from which this was made,” he said, “was 
given me a long time ago, by a little Scotch girl named 
McGregor.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 


In The Face of Danger. 

M ISS M'GREGOR remained in Washington some 
days after the close of the convention, looking 
after other business, and her acquaintance with 
Senator Cameron and his sister, ripened into friendship. 
“Miss McGregor,” said the Senator, one day, “you 


200 


IN The face of danger 

were saying you would like to return by way of the St. 
Lawrence, and Niagara. Maj. Greely and a small com- 
pany of scientists will start tomorrow for a short trip to 
the coasts of New Foundland and Labrador for scientific 
observations. A few friends will accompany them, and 
I was thinking of making one of the number, as they will 
return before Congress opens. Would you enjoy the 
trip with us?” 

“I would be delighted. It would be a new world to 
me.” 

It was a cold November morning. The passengers 
were startled from their berths by the cry : “The ice- 
berg!” They hurried on their wraps, and hastened to 
the deck. The ajr was chilly, and a stiff gale was blow- 
ing, but for a wonder, the sun was shining. It had risen 
in a clear streak in the east, but, above, hung a heavy 
cloud splotched with red. The great sea lay before them, 
wide and wild, rising and falling in yeasty commotion. 
A large wave, every now and then loomed up to meet 
them, but as their huge prow cut it in twain, it curled 
up over the deck in sprays of foam. And there, to the 
north, towered an iceberg glittering in the sun, or re- 
flecting the crimson of the clouds, as it slowly turned, 
and rose, and fell, with the waves, and its semblance 
of spires and castles showed in bold relief against the 
clouds. As the waves rolled into the caverns which 
they had lapped about its base, with a deep resounding 
roar, the dark green of the sea was reflected up its 
hollow sides. 

“Wonderfully beautiful !” It was Mr. Cameron’s, 
voice, and, for the first time Jane McGregor was aware 
he was standing at her side, so intent was she in watch- 
ing the strange sight. 

“Sublime,” she answered, “the waves seem to be 
leaping up the sides of the berg, like hungry wolves 


201 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE m'GREGOR 

leaping for their prey.” Suddenly a peal, as of thunder, 
shook the air, and a fragment burst from the berg, and 
fell, with a heavy splash, into the sea. As they watched, 
the grey cloud enwrapped the sun, and came trailing 
over the sea, winding, like a shroud, about the iceberg, 
and settling, like a damp grey pall about their ship. 
The fog that closed in like a wall, sent a chill through 
them, that caused them to draw their wraps closer. 

“Shall we go in now? ” asked Mr. Cameron. 

“Not yet. There is something uncanny and ghost- 
like about this fog. See, the waves look like ghoulish 
monsters creeping up in the gloom to devour us. Their 
guttural roars, and the crackling of the ice sound like 
mysterious voices warning us of danger.” 

“There is danger, in this thick fog. This is a treach- 
erous coast, and many a poor sailor has been rocked tc 
his last sleep by this cruel sea.” 

“Look!" she exclaimed, a moment later. “Is that 
the icceberg?” 

“The iceberg?" and he drew closer to her, with a 
sense of peril, and peered into the thick mist. “Some- 
thing surely; is it a sail, or only a towering wave?” 

“It is like a phantom ship, looming to the clouds!" 
and there was a tenseness of excitement in her voice. 

“I presume the refraction of the fog magnifies and 
lifts it up,” he replied. 

There was an outcry. The pilot strained at the 
wheel. The ship lurched. Catching her hand, he 
grasped the rail with the other hand. The shapes took 
outline as they passed, and proved to be a fleet of fish- 
ing schooners, scudding to the leeward. 

“It was a narrow esccape for them,” she said, as she 
saw them gallantly charging the rough sea. 

“Yes; our ship came near riding them down in the 
fog, poor fellows. We may be thankful it was not the 


202 


IN The eace oe danger 

iceberg; we would not have escaped so easily, had we 
ridden it down in the gloom. 

The passengers soon tired of the chilly deck, and took 
refuge in the cabin. Some had succumbed to sea-sick- 
ness, but the others huddled together and told stories of 
shipwiecks and escapes. 

“Major Greely,’' said one of the company, ‘‘if it is 
not too painful to recall them, we would like to hear 
some of the experiences of your terrible winter in the 
north.” 

“After a series of hairbreadth escapes by the moving 
ice floes,” began Major Greely, “the expedition was 
frozen in and subjected to the mercy of the floating pack. 
The steamer and one boat were abandoned, and by 
sledge over the heavy ice, and by boat through the open 
channels, an effort was made to reach, the land, only 
eleven miles distant. This may seem to have been an 
eas}^ task, but we managed, only after the most stren- 
uous and exhausting labor to accomplish it in eighteen 
days. We moved to the most sheltered spot suitable 
for camp, and built a stone hut. The land we reached 
was almost entirely void of vegetation, and consequently 
of animal life. From the very first it was evident that 
we were face to face with death — a coast devoid of game, 
fuel for warmth lacking, and clothing badly worn — and 
over eight months must intervene before help could 
come. Our food was divided so as to last until March. 
What might we not expect from spring hunting if we 
could live on fourteen ounces of food each day? The 
ounce of seal oil allowed to the men for reading was 
already begrudged. We had but a faint ray of light in 
our hut, even at mid-day. The winter had set in so 
sharply that our fur sleeping bags were, for seven 
months, frozen solidly to the ground. On October 26, 
the sun went down, not to rise again for one hundred 


203 


COI^FIN NAILS : THE STORY OR JANE m'GREGOR 

and ten days. The long night wiiliont a ray of sun 
had begun. God knows how long it seemed to us. How 
in that moonless and sunless period the star.s were a 
source of faith and comfort, God on'y knows. It was 
significant that those who most prov^'kaimed belief m a 
future beyond this life, were the strongest in will to 
live out the watched span that showed its near end to iis. 
If this world is all, it were better to end life than to 
pass through the hell on earth that was our certain lot 
for the next six months — or until deatVi. Rising super- 
ior to adversity and sufferings, they showed an elevation 
of soul that came only from within, or from on high. 
Four volunteers braved death in striving to bring to 
our camp four cases of canned beef from Cape Isabella, 
where the British expedition had cached it. One man 
froze his hands, and later his feet. Two others crawled 
into the buffalo bag, beside the frozen man to thaw him 
out with the heat of their own shivering; bodies, while 
the strongest went, in the deep snow and total darkness, 
twenty-five miles to our camp. Nearly every man vol- 
unteered for the awful sledge journev across a danger- 
ous strait, through utter and almost irg')enetrab]e dark- 
ness, and in a bitter cold of sixty- 'ki.v degrees below 
freezing. But they went, and found the men caiientetl 
by frost in the bag, as in a livirij tomb, which was 
chopped in pieces with a hatchet. 

“The new year was only nineteen days old \vhen 
death came for the first time. But death was inevitable. 
We said little. But the nearness, of i he end touched us 
all. Speech became lower, actions gentler, deteiTnined 
faces grew softer, and conciliation was the spirit of the 
hour. On March 25, we awoke to find that the sunless 
night was gone. How blessed was that sun on that 
morning. For the first time in five months a ray of 
light came into the hut. Ennui and pain, cold and hun- 


204 


IN THE Face of danger 

ger, weakness and anger, fled away — as if they were 
but parts of the darkness. On Easter Sunday we had 
a glad surprise, when a tiny snow bunting rested on 
the ridge pole of our hut, and piped a song. All sat 
silent till the bird passed. How it called to mind church, 
home and country, and stirred the hope that we should 
see them again.. The Easter sun had hardly set before 
the second man fell before Death. A day after and 
the third succumbed, then the fourth. The fifth fol- 
lowed quickly, to solve the problem of futurity. Strive 
and do, do and strive, until death, were the mottoes of 
our hunters and one day nearly five hundred pounds of 
bear meat came, just as all food had almost failed. 
Something to eat — something to keep life. Summer 
crept slowly on, but food came grudgingly. One after 
another passed, and when a mighty midsummer gale 
from the south broke up the ice, there were left seven 
wan spectres. But there was strong faith that this wind 
must favor the American ships that must be working 
through the ice. And this faith turned to reality forty 
hours later, when our nation’s sailors vied in tender 
offices and sympathy for their comrades.” 

“What a terrible ordeal !” exclaimed one of the list- 
eners. 

“What sublime faith and courage!” added Miss Mc- 
Gregor. 

“What kept you up, Major Greely?” asked Senator 
Cameron. 

“I felt that I had to live anyhow, that I must stand 
by the men, and fulfill the object of the expedition.” 

“But there were twenty-five men of you, all picked 
men, and you were all subjected to the same hardships. 
Why were you seven the survivors?” 

“Of the six who lived to see their countr^^ again — 
for one died on the return voyage — all were men of the 


205 


CO^JFIN NAIIvS : THE STORY OE JANE m'GREGOR 

most strictly temperate habits in every particular. Four 
of them never used tobacco. The other two would 
sometimes, on festive occasions, to oblige a friend, smoke 
a cigarette, or part of a cigar. But they cared nothing 
for it, and took no tobacco with them. Of the nineteen 
who perished, the large majority were users of tobacco, 
some in moderation, some tO' excess. The first man to 
die was one who in former years had been a hard drink- 
er, and there is reason to believe that the deaths of sever- 
al others were hastened by previous habits of excess.” 

“Yes,” said Prof. Grierson, one of the scientists, “to- 
bacco, like all other narcotics, first stimulates, and then 
weakens, and it will be found, when narcotics are accu- 
rately and scientifically tested, that, although they may 
for a time seem to add strength, they always permanently 
weaken the powers of endurance.” 

At length it was observed that the fog had lifted, and 
some ventured on deck again. The sea was rougher than 
in the morning, and the ship pitched dizzily, so that 
they were obliged to hold to the railing. 

“What a wild waste of waters!” exclaimed Miss Mc- 
Gregor. Those great green billows rush eagerlv from 
shore to shore, as though freighted with the destinies 
of a world. Is the sea never still?” 

“Very seldom.” replied Mr. Cameron, “and yet I have 
seen it glassy in its c+illnpc?*;/’ 

Soon the rocky coast loomed up in the distance. Sud- 
denly shrill cries were heard. overhead, and long winged 
birds swept over them, ,and dived into the snowv crests 
of the waves. 

“What beautiful birds!” she exclaimed. 

“Yes, thev are sea gulls. They seem to love these 
wild waves.” 

“And who would not ? There is such a sense of free- 
dom and energy about them.” 

206 


IN THE FACE OE DANGER 

The ship had veered to one side, to seek a quiet har- 
bor, but they could hear the tide beating and pounding 
against the cliffs, as though dashing them to pieces. The 
man watched the scene, but more interesting to him than 
even the wild waves, was the rapt face of the woman 
beside him, gazing upon this stormy grandeur. The pent 
up poetry of her nature beamed from her expressive 
eyes, as she exclaimed : ‘‘Oh ! those robber waves. They 
are not content with licking up the tropic sands, and 
swallowing the merchant ships, with their loads of gold, 
and sweeping poor mortals down in their cold embrace, 
but they must storm those icy ramparts, as though daring 
aught tO' stand in their way.” 

“They act as some human beings feel,” he replied, but 
I trust the icy coldness is only external.” She raised her 
eyes inquiringly to his. “Did you ever see frozen 
waves?” asked one of their company, coming up just 
then, with a field glass in his hand. “Look through this 
glass to the north.” Looking, they beheld what ap- 
peared to be a turbulent sea, frozen as it rolled — rough 
billows with foamy caps, and dark green hollows be- 
tween — but still as death. 

“And is it really frozen?” 

“Yes, slush ice swept up bv the waves, and frozen 
solid.” 

Soon all was bustle as they entered the harbor. The 
company went ashore for awhile, looked about the city, 
and visited the office of the Atlantic Cable. Everything 
was quiet, except the click, click, of the instruments. 
The operators were busy and intent on their work, and 
the quietness seemed oppressive. Ons of the visitors 
asked: “Are not the operators allowed to speak?” 

“Only on business, and that very quietly,” replied the 
manager in a low tone. 


207 


coffin naifs : the story of jane m'gregor 

“Do you allow tobacco or liquor used by the opera- 
tors?” asked Miss McGregor. 

“No, indeed! The cablegrams are often difficult to 
understand, and they must be transmitted rapidly and 
accurately. ‘So steady a nerve, and so accurate a sense 
of hearing are required by the operators that we can not 
afford to hire any one who is guilty of either of those 
habits, as observation has shown that both of them affect 
both the nerves and the sense of hearing.” 

Miss McGregor started on her return trip to the west, 
and Mr. Cameron and his company returned to the ship 
to continue their voyage. 


CHAPTER XXII. 
Bennie. 


D r. M'GREGOR had been invited to speak before the 
State Teachers’ Association. During an interim 
in the program the mail was brought and distribu- 
ted. There were several letters for Miss McGregor, but 
one, bearing the Washington postmark, seemed to inter- 
est her especially. She was not looking for a letter from 
Washington, yet a queer flutter at her heart showed that 
it was not entirely unexpected. Before she had time to 
open it, the next speaker arose. She would not be so 

208 


BENNIK 


impolite as to read it while he was speaking, 'and her own 
address came next, so she laid it aside. 

When she arose, after describing the injuries of to- 
bacco to the health, she said: “In early life the brain is 
sensitive to injury, and this vicious habit stunts and 
weakens it, and the younger the boy, the greater the in- 
jury. I am glad that most of our educators oppose ci- 
garette smoking; they see its ruinous effects.” She then 
quoted the testimonies of many teachers, among them 
Supt. Hyatt, of Des Moines, who said: “The cigarette 
dwarfs the intellect, so that the boy who becomes ad- 
dicted to it has but little chance of success;” and Prof. 
Lanedon, who said : “There has been but one cigarette 
smoker graduated from our High School in twenty 
years, and it took him five years to finish.” 

“Nor is it cigarettes alone,” she went on. “Experi- 
enced teachers also observe the dulling effects of tobacco 
in other forms. The teacher’s example, as well as his 
learning, helps to mould the child’s character, and he is 
paid by the people for that purpose. The teacher’s char- 
acter is more potent than text books. Alas! that some 
teachers are destroying their influence for good by 
smoking cigars. Even those fathers who smoke usually 
prefer that their boys should not learn the habit. I hear 
that even some college professors belittle themselves by 
using tobacco. Many a boy is thus led — first to smoke, 
then down the toboggan slide to ruin. Many another boy 
who goes from home with clean habits, has his moral 
ideals lowered, so that he fails to become what he might 
have been, and his parents feel disappointed, feel that he 
would better have remained uneducated, and retained a 
pure conscientious character. 

“I was told by an eyewitness that at- Harvard, at the 
alumni reception, pipes were passed around with great 
ceremony, followed by buckets of tobacco, and that he 


209 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

was a brave young man, who, with all eyes upon him, 
could refuse to light his pipe, and join in the customary 
smoke. Such colleges are a curse to the land. Only a 
short time ago I heard of a young graduate of Princeton, 
son of a wealthy father, crazed by tobacco, who wanders 
round and round a garden, never lost sight of by a guard, 
ever hunting for a cigar or cigarette. 

“Would that all our colleges would set their faces like 
a flint against liquor and toabcco. Young men could 
then go out from them with a moral stamina that would 
make them a power for good. 

“Cigarettes tend to empty the schoothouses, and fill the 
reformatories. The Truancy Officers’ Association issued 
an appeal to parents to help stop cigarette smoking, be- 
cause it was the chief cause of truancy and demoraliza- 
tion. There have been seventeen thousand arrests of 
boys in a year, in Chicago, and the Chief of Police sent 
notices to all the tobacco stores, warning them of the 
penalties against selling cigarettes to boys. In the Chi- 
cago schools boys and girls were subject to the same 
physical examination, and every girl passed, but a large 
number of boys were found to be in a condition that 
made violent exercise dangerous. Statistics show that 
ninety-five out of every hundred boys who are not smok- 
ers acquire an education, while only six out of every 
hundred smokers ever pass the second year of the high 
school. A few decades ago most of the smokers learned 
the habit when nearly grown, now they learn when mere 
tots. The public school is the hot-bed of the cigarette 
evil, therefore it is the place to check the habit. A bur- 
den of responsibility rests on teachers. I know how 
prone they are to shift this burden to the shoulders of the 
parents. But, in many homes all good teaching is oflfset 
by the father’s practice, and these children taint those 
who have been carefully trained. The public school is a 


2TO 


BENNIE 


great leveler, and it is easier to level down, than up. But 
the teachers complain that they are already overworked 
— that too many studies are crowded into the course — 
that they have no time for moral teaching. The state 
educates its children to make them good citizens. Is it 
ignorance of grammar or geopraphy that makes crim- 
inals? No, but ignorance of moral laws, and indulgence 
in vicious habits that fills our prisons. Nine-tenths of 
all crimes are caused by the direct, or indirect results of 
liquor, tobacco, and other narcotics. These drugs para- 
lyze the conscience, and fill our jails, our asylums, and 
our almshouses. Boys go thfough school, and go out to 
smoke, and drink, and steal and swindle. Such educa- 
tion is a failure. Let the teachers call a halt. Cut down 
the course. Go' back, even, if need be, to the ‘three R’s,' 
that there may be spare time to teach vital truths. What 
the child needs is less knowledge, and more moral stam- 
ina. He needs the wisdom to know right from wrong — 
a training which strengthens his self-control and love of 
righteousness. So strong has the false idea of liberty — 
the rebellious law-breaking spirit — become in this coun- 
try, that law is violated with impunity. Teach him rev- 
erence for law — for the laws of health, the laws of man, 
and the laws of God. Teach him to be truthful, pure- 
minded, honest and temperate. The fundamentals of a 
true education are, a strong mind, and a strong con- 
science in a strong body. These first, then build what 
superstructure you will. 

“It is not enough to teach the evils of narcotics in the 
physiology class in the last year of the course. Long 
before that most of the smokers have dropped out of 
scliool. Begin early to battle against the cigarette, show- 
ing what fearful evil it does. Arouse the boys them- 
selves. Appeal to their honor to help save their country 
from this curse. Organize and enthuse them, and turn 


2II 


COFFIN NAIFS : THE STORY OF JANE m'GREGOR 

the tide of sentiment. Make them feel that they are 
brave soldiers fighting in a great cause.” 

Dr. McGregor had again found a resting place, this 
time in the home of Mrs. Martin, none o-ther than her old 
schoolmate, Sallie. Her husband, our old friend, Charley 
Martin, was a prosperous farmer, living a few miles 
from Jacksonville. At that time he happened to be away 
on business, and Sallie was glad of the company of her 
friend in her loneliness, for her boy Alvin, the oldest of 
her children, was only twelve. 

The two fi lends had visited all the afternoon, and, of 
course, Jane had told of her work, and Sallie had proudly 
stated that she had kept Alvin from learning to smoke, 
although many of his schoolmates used cigarettes. But, 
w hen Alvin came in, at supper time, Jane concluded that 
he did smoke, and told Sallie so, after he went out, but 
she could not believe it. A neighbor’s boy had come to 
help Alvin do chores, and, at Jane’s suggestion, they 
went to the barn, a*nd, peeping through a crack, saw the 
boys, each puffing a cigarette. Jane put a warninof finger 
to her lips, and they returned to the house as quietly as 
they ^vent ; wTen Sallie asked . indignantly : “Why 
didn’t you let me send that smoking boy home? The 
idea of his teaching my boy tO' smoke.” 

“To have burst upon them with angry reproof would 
have made matters worse. I think Alvin has smoked 
l)efore today.” 

After the chores were finished. Miss McGregor visited 
with Alvin, telling him of her travels, her children’s 
meetings, and then of various boys who had been injured 
by smoking. She said to his mother: 

“Have you ever told him about Bennie?” 

“Yes, I visited Bennie at the asylum, once, and he 
knew me. There are times when he is almost rational, 
and, at such times, he remembers things that happened in 


212 


B£:nNIE 


Ills childhood, though he can not learn anything now. 
And when I came home -I told Alvin all about him, and 
I did not think he would ever use tobacco after such a 
warning.” 

“But, mamma, the boys said cigarettes were such little 
things, they wouldn’t hurt anybody. Tell me some more 
about Bennie.” So the two women talked of Bennie’s 
innocent childish ways, and Jane explained how cigar- 
ettes were dangerous, and Alvin promised never to touch 
another. 

An hour later, as the two women still sat, visiting, by 
the fire, they heard a slow tramp, tramp, tramp, around 
the house. Jane remembered how cowardly Sallie nat- 
urally was, and said : “Probably a cow has found a bar 
down, and has come in. As they listened, the kitchen 
door opened, and they heard steps inside. Both women 
rose to their feet. 

“Probably your husband has come home sooner than 
you expected,” said Jane. 

“Oh, no! It don’t sound like Charley’s step. It’s a 
tramp,” exclaimed Sallie, shrinking behind Jane, who 
was carrying the lamp. And there stood as ugly and 
fierce a looking tramp as ever scared lone women. 

“Oh! It’s Bennie! Got out of the asylum!” cried 
Sallie. “Bennie, don’t you know Sallie?” 

Jane set the lamp on the table, but Bennie only an- 
swered gruffly, “Want some tobacco ! Got any ’baccer?” 
and started toward Sallie. “I will run for the neigh- 
bors,” she whispered, dodging back out of the door. The 
idiot sprang toward her, but instead of following her, 
turned toward Jane, with his back against the door, re- 
peating more fiercely, “Want some tobaccer! Got any 
’baccer?” 

Both doors were in the same corner, and Jane, seeing 
her retreat cut off, tried to conciliate him. 


213 


COFi^IN NAILS : THE STORY OE JANE MCGREGOR 

“Good evening, Bennie. Don’t you know Jane? Ben- 
nie, don’t you want to see Sallie? She’ll come pretty 
soon. Do you want Sallie to bring Bennie’s kitty?” The 
rough face relaxed, as he stared vacantly at her, as 
though her words had stirred some blurred memory. 
Then the fierce look came back, and he started toward 
her, demanding: “Give me ’baccer, or I’ll kill you!” 
She backed toward the cupboard, saying: “Where's 
mother? Does Bennie like mother’s doughnuts?” as she 
kept her eyes fixed on his. Again his face relaxed, with 
a gleam of intelligence, and at sight of the food, which 
she placed on the side of the table farthest from the door, 
he rushed up and began eating greedily, like some starved 
animal. Bringing more food, she slipped around toward 
the door, as he ate, keeping her eyes on him. Suddenly 
a spasm of pain seemed to dart over his face. Her hand 
was on the door knob behind her. A savage look con- 
torted his features. He yelled fiercely, “’Baccer! Give 
me ‘baccer, or I’ll kill you!” and hurled a dish at her, 
which missed her head, as she dodged. With glaring 
eyes he grabbed a chair — she opened the door — dodged 
throup-h — shut, and locked it — as he dashed against it, 
breaking the chair to splinters. 

“What’s the matter?” called a boyish voice from the 
head of the stairs. 

“Come quick and help me, Alvin !” as she braced her- 
self against the door, lest the lock give way. “A tramp! 
“Help me hold the door.” 

With yells of rage the madman dashed against the 
door — crash! “There they come,” cried Alvin, as he 
heard voices outside, a heavy fall, and a scrambling noise. 

Entering the outer door the neighbors found the poor 
creature in a fit on the floor, and they bound him, and 
took him away. 


2T4 


THE VOICE OE SCIENCE. 


The two women and Alvin huddled together, after 
they left, too much excited to retire at once. 

“O mamma, I was awful scared!” said Alvin. “That 
wasn’t Bennie Mallows, was it?” 

“Yes, dear, that was poor crazy Bennie.” 

“But you said he was pretty, and that was the hor- 
ridest old tramp. His ears were big, most like a mule’s, 
and his head flatted back, and he looked like that old 
hyena.” 

To be sure, he was a bonnie laddie once, but<ihewing 
tobacco made him crazv, and now he is like a wild an- 
imal.” 

“Til never smoke another cigarette! See if I do!” 


CHAPTER XXIH. 


The Voice oe Science. 


M r. BOWEN, the Y.M.C.A. Secretary, had arranged 
for Dr. McGregor to return and give them an 
address. 

“My friends,” she began, “you are starting out, eager 
and energetic, hopeful of succeeding in life. I come 
to tell you how tobacco will hinder that success. P. T. 
Barnum, one of our most successful business men, ad- 
vised young men : ‘Keep your brain free from the 
fumes of alcohol, and avoid tobacco, as the poison it 




COFFIN NAIFS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

really is. Keep yourself clean, physically and morally. 
Give your body the care -you would to any machine, of 
which you expect good work.' 

‘"Your athletic trainer in the college informs me that 
he has already told you how athletes reject tobacco. 
Does, not a habit which weakens the strength, and un- 
steadies the nerves of athletes, deprive you of the strength 
and nerve needed in the serious business of life? 

“Enterprising dealers filled their pockets, and caused 
a startling increase in the use of tobacco, by foisting 
cigarettes on the boys, and the increase in its evil effects 
are even more startling. Business colleges tell us that 
only a small per cent of cigarette smokers make any 
headway in business. Everywhere it is noticed that 
cigarette smoking boys are, as a rule, pale, dull, stunted 
in growth ; frequently have weak eyes, weak hearts, or 
dyspepsia, and are usually slow, unreliable, and even 
deceitful. Gen. Lew Wallace said of the cigarette: ‘I 
consider it the deadliest thing a person can put to his 
mouth.' Every boy seen smoking cigarettes draws a 
black mark through his name, for the business man 
doubts his character. A Chicago boy, who smoked, 
admitted that he had that day applied in vain for work 
at ten places, and at every place they asked if he smoked. 
Slowly, but surely, smokers are being crowded out of 
the business world. Business men prohibit this vice 
among employees, because they find cigarette smokers 
less reliable, mentally and physically, than non-users. 

“Mr. Bartlet, of the firm of Hilberd, Spencer & Bart- 
let, Chicago', said : ‘We prohibit cigarette smoking 
among our employes because we want the use of healthy, 
not diseased, brains.' I have a list of more than a hun- 
dred of the largest business firms, banks, railways and 
insurance companies, who refuse to employ smokers, for 
similar reasons. 


216 


THE VOICE OF SCIENCE. 

“Heart disease is rapidly on the increase, and espec- 
ially among young men. There were over fourteen 
thousand more deaths from heart disease, in this country 
in 1900, than in 1890. Ninety per cent of the rejec- 
tions of those examined for the army during the Cuban 
war, were for tobacco hearts. Major Houston, in charge 
of the Navy Yard Barracks, at Washington, stated that 
one-fifth of all the boys who were examined for admis- 
sion into the navy, were rejected on account of tobacco 
hearts. 

“Word comes from London that the cigarette is play- 
ing havoc with the British army. A large number of 
raw recruits were sent to Gen. Lytleton, commanding 
the forcces in South Africa, most of whom were smok 
ers. The applicants who were accepted but had not 
smoked long enough to bring on tobacco heart ; but Gen. 
Lytleton reported that they were nearly ruined by cig- 
arette smoking — that most of them were lazy and slo'v' 
of thought; that many were troubled with hoarseness, 
or dyspepsia, headache, or poor memory, or pallor from 
impaired blood. ‘After months of drilling,' said he, 
‘many of these recruits seem unable to remember the 
simplest movements of the manual, and no one of them 
ever displays the slightest resourcefulness in emergen- 
cies. And it will take three years to bring them up to 
the point where they will be capable of doing a day's 
work without breaking down.’ 

“Many of you are blaming all this trouble on the 
opium said to be in cigarettes, and thinking that there 
is no harm in cigars. But Hon. C. B. Hubbell, Presi- 
dent of the New York Board of Education, said : ‘We 
hear it said that the cigarette is deadly because it con- 
tains opium. I am persuaded that the reasons assigned 
are not correct. The manufacturer could not afford to put 
opium in his product, at the price he receives for his 


217 


COFFIN NAILS : THL STORY OF JANL MCGREGOR 

goods. None of the cheaper grades of cigarettes con- 
tain opium, or any of its products.' 

“Dr. E. M. Hale, emeritus Professor of Materia 
Medica, Chicago, says : ‘It is not only the paper wrap- 
ping, nor the other ingredients that are sO' harmful, but 
it is the tobacco; in fact, the better the tobacco, the 
more nicoctine it contains, and the greater the poison- 
ing effect.’ 

“Some of the worst cases of insanity, heart trouble 
and stunted growth, are among cigarette smokers who 
roll their own cigarettes out of ordinary smoking to- 
bacco. Why then are they more dangerous than other 
methods of using this weed? First: because, the fine 
cut tobacco being smoked so close to the mouth, the 
poison is all inhaled, while the pipe stem and cigar 
stump absorb part of the poison. Secondly, being 
small, boys learn to use them much younger than they 
do pipes and cigars, and, being cheap, the temptation is 
great to use a large number, before the user is old 
enough to have learned self-control. Tobacco used by 
a growing boy retards the growth, and an English phy- 
sician says : ‘A boy who early smokes is rarely known 
to make a man of much energy of character.’ Thirdly : 
the chief reason we give in another quotation from Hon. 
C. B. Hubbell : ‘The cigarette is deadly because it 
breeds the inhaling habit. The cigarette smoker takes 
a deep inhalation of the smoke, which at once reaches 
the tipper air passages of the lungs ; where, almost im- 
mediately, are released into his circulation nicotine, the 
volatile oils, and the deadly carbon monoxide.’ ’’ 

Calling a boy to the platform. Miss McGregor said : 
“I have asked Jack to help me show you some exneri- 
ments.” And taking a box of cigarettes from his pocket, 
the boy lighted one. Miss McGregor produced a handful 
of handkerchiefs, and had him blow a mouthful of smoke 


218 


THE VOICE OF SCIENCE. 

through each one, and she passed them to the audience, 
asking them to observe the spot of brown soot. She 
handed him others telling him to inhale the smoke as 
usual, and then blow it through the handkerchiefs. When 
they were passed the smoke could scarcely be detected. 
“That shows you,’’ said she, “how much soot is lodged 
in the lungs. Now, Jack, light a cigar, and blow the 
smoke through these handkerchiefs.” He did so, and 
the stains were even darker than those from the cigar- 
ettes, before he inhaled the smoke. “That shows,” she 
went on, “how much worse cigars would injure you 
than even cigarettes, if you inhaled the smoke.” 

She then called for Harvey, and explained, as he came 
on the stand, that he was a boy who had never used to- 
bacco. They noticed the contrast between him and pale 
Jack, and thought that was her reason for calling him. 
She told both boys to roll up their sleeves, and taking 
a slimy leech from a jar, started to put it on Jack’s arm. 
He drew back, saying: “I'm afraid it will hurt.” She 
laid a silver dollar in his hand, with : “It onlv hurts a 
trifle, but maybe this will help you bear it.” She laid 
another leech on Harvey’s arm, offering him a dollar, 
but he said, “I don't want any money. I’m not afraid.” 
The speaker remarked : “Surgeons observe that tobacco 
users lack fortitude under surgical operations.” 

In a few moments the leech on Jack's arm fell off, 
and, when Dr. McGregor picked it up, it was dead. But 
the leech on Harvey’s arm hung on till full of blood, and 
was then put back in the jar, rather lazy, but as lively 
as any sated leech. 

“Just as I expected,” she said. “Leeches are killed by 
the blood of tobacco smokers. A pound of tobacco con- 
tains enough poison, if swallowed at once, to kill three 
hundred men. Every physician has cases of tobacco 
heart, as well as dyspepsia, and other ailments, among 


219 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

pipe and cigar smokers, and even among tobacco chew- 
ers. Tobacco contains several different poisons. First, 
from seven to nine per cent of nicotine, which is one of 
the most poisonous substances known. It is a fluid, and 
can readily be extracted from tobacco both by chewing 
and smoking, and to this is due a large part of the in- 
jury caused by the habit. Second, nicctianina, a bitter 
resinous substance, soluble in water, and therefore read- 
ily absorbed, but not set free so easily by smoking. It is 
this substance which largely causes the nausea and vom- 
iting, and which makes tobacco chewers more liable to 
dyspepsia than smokers. And, yet, filthy and disgusting 
as is the habit of chewing, it is probably the least harm- 
ful method of using the weed; for there are four more 
poisons, of which the smoker obtains a larger share than 
the chewer. Third, aflimonia, which, being set free by 
the heat of smoking, causes the mouth and throat to be- 
come parched, and is injurious to the lungs and blood. 
Fourth, empyrumatic oil of tobacco, extremely poison- 
ous, which, as it can only be distilled at the boiling 
point, does not trouble the tobacco chewer. Leeches are 
not killed by sucking tobacco chewers’ blood. Some 
that were killed by smoker’s blood, were found, on ex- 
amination, to have been poisoned by empyrumatic oil. 
Fifth, carbon-dioxide, a gas set free by the burning to- 
bacco, which smothers the lungs by crowding out the 
oxygeri. Sixth, carbon-monoxide gas, similar to carbon- 
dioxide gas, only more deadly. It is the cause of death 
in mines, and in rootns filled with escaped gas.” 

Taking a knife from the table, the speaker drew it 
quickly across her fingers, and let the blood drip in a 
glass. Pouring a little water into it, she held it up be- 
fore the light, that the audience might see the bright red 
color, then poured it into a bottle, saying: ‘‘Now, Jack, 
light a cigar, and puflF some smoke into the bottle.” As 


220 


THE VOICE OF SCIENCE. 


soon as he did so, she corked it, shook it, and held it up 
in the light. The spectators were startled to see that it 
was no longer red, but very pale pink. The speaker con- 
tinued : “This change in color is caused by the presence 
of the deadly mon-oxide gas. Why will you die if you 
stop breathing? Why will you die if your heart stops 
beating? The particles that compose the body are ever 
wearing out, and must be remoyed, .and replaced by fresh 
nutrition. As soon as they are worn out, they become 
not only useless, but poisonous — liable to cause blood 
poison, unless rdmoved. The digested food enters the 
blood near the heart, and all the blood goes through the 
lungs, and then starts on its journey through the arte- 
ries, a bright scarlet, but returns through the veins a 
dark red. The blood, when viewed through a micro- 
scope, is a clear fluid, filled with millions of minute disc- 
shaped corpuscles, some red, some white. Both kinds 
perform double offices. Both carry nutrition to various 
parts of the body. The red corpuscles, as they pass 
through the lungs, absorb oxygen, which they carry 
through the circulation. As fast as they come to waste 
tissue, the oxygen is freed, and changes it into waste 
compounds, which are left floating in the blood. The 
worn out tissue is replaced by the nutritious substance 
brought by the corpuscles. The white corpuscles are 
scavengers, and, as fast as they unload their nutrition, 
they gather up this waste matter in the blood, and carry 
it to the lungs or excretory organs. If the lungs are 
filled with carbon-dioxide, or carbon-monoxide gases, as 
in a mine, or room, filled with them, the whole body, and 
especially the brain, smothers for want of oxygen, and 
death ensues. But, if the lungs are partially filled with 
these gases, as in smoking, the red corpuscles find a 
scarcity of oxygen to carry around, and the monoxide, 
entering the blood, has such an appetite for oxygen, that 


f 


221 


COFFIN NAILS : THL STORY OT JANE MCGREGOR 

it absorbs it from every corpuscle it touches. So the 
body starves for oxygen, the worn out particles fail to 
be oxidized, and remain as waste matter in the system^ 
thus breeding disease. The fact that men, working out 
of doors, breathe more oxygen, is the reason they are 
able to stand smoking better than indoor laborers. The 
blood of smokers, when examined with a microscope, 
shows many of the red corpuscles pale and shriveled, 
while thousands of them are broken and destroyed, the 
dead cells floating in the colorless liquid, the blood being 
more watery, and of a paler color. This causes the pale- 
ness of cigarette smokers, because they inhale the smoke, 
thus retaining much of the gases. But the carbon- mon- 
oxide and other gases can enter the blood without being 
inhaled, for much of them is absorbed through the mu- 
cous membrane of the mouth, nose, and throat. Let me 
show you an experiment to prove this.” 

Breaking an old pipe, she took some thread from a 
spool, and rubbed it across- the inside of the pipe. Then, 
taking a lively frog from a box, she deftly drew the 
thread across the delicate membrane answering for an 
eyelid. A few spasmodic jerks, and, in less than a min- 
ute, the frog fell dead. 

‘‘The throats of smokers are usually of a deeper red 
than those of non-smokers,” she continued, “showing 
slight inflammation ; while smokers’ sore throat is quite 
common. This rough appearance is found to extend to 
the whole mucous membrane, and more delicate serous 
membrane lining the pulmonary and alimentary canals. 
Typhoid fever and cholera both attack the serous mem- 
branes of the intestines; and it is a fact that these dis- 
eases more often prove fatal in the case of tobacco users 
than others, on account of the inflamed conditions of 
these membranes. When any poison in the blood can not 
be carried off by the excretory organs, nature has an- 


222 


THE VOICE OF SCIENCE. 

other plan. She sets up inflammation of one of these 
lining membranes, and the poison is thrown out on its 
surtace in the form of mucous. The membranes of the 
lungs of smokers usually show these spots of inflamma- 
tion, and they are often dotted with brown specks of 
nicotine. These inflamed spots and little brown specks 
are often found on the mucous linings of the stomach, 
liver, and intestines of tobacco chewers. In cigarette 
smokers the lung cavities are often partially filled with 
thick black mucous. In extreme cases the lungs are 
sometimes shriveled up. Dr. Danburn said: T have 
made thousands of autopsies, and have always observed 
the horrible condition of the larynx and bronchial tubes 
of cigarette smokers. The tubes showed coal-black de- 
posits, such as coal-miners show from inhalation of coal 
dust.’ 

“Consumption is increasing rapidly. It is not, pri- 
marily caused by tobacco, but is an infectious disease, 
and a tendency to it is often hereditary. But the irrita- 
tion of the serous membrane of the lungs by the tobacco 
poison and soot, afford a hotbed for tlie growth of the 
germs of tuberculosis. 

“It has been argued that the heat of smoking destroy- 
ed the nicotine. But Kissling, by a series of experiments 
ill which he burned Tobacco, and saved the smoke in 
tubes, found, in different specimens, from fifty-two to 
eighty-four per cent of the nicotine in the smoke. As we 
have seen, some of the other poisons that are liberated 
b}^ the heat of smoking are nearly as dangerous as nico- 
tine. 

“Young men, in order to be successful, need clear brains 
and steady nerves. The chief effect of tobacco is on the 
nerves of the brain. How many of you, when fretted or 
fagged, find a smoke a soothing sedative? But tbnt 
spothing effect is only a benumbing of brain and nen.^e.” 


223 


COJ'FIN NAILS : THE STORY OE JANE m'GREGOK 

The speaker then proceeded to show the common ex- 
periment of cooking or hardening, the white of an egg by 
pouring alcohol over it, and explained that the brain and 
nerves were of similar substance, and could be thus har- 
dened in alcohol or nicotine. ‘‘But this is a crude illus- 
tration,” she went on. “If your blooo was so saturated 
with either poison that the nerves woi-.ld he thus cooked, 
you would drop dead. But a similar process is slowly 
going on in the brain of the drinker, or tobacco user. An 
eminent German surgeon told his students that they were 
literally burning up their brains with tobacco.” 

Hanging a chart on the wall, the speaker continued : 
“The patient scientist, with his microscope, is revealing 
the cause of many things we knew, but could not explain. 
You see here, on this chart, a greatly magnified brain cell, 
with its multitude of delicate tentacles, branching from 
a center, like the fine rootlets of a plant,. They are the 
most fragile of any part of the human body. Every 
thought, every exertion of the mind, wears out some of 
these tiny terminal fibres, and the blood hastens to repair 
them. If the blood is pure, every time one is repaired it 
is a trifle stronger than before. That is the reason that 
every time we repeat a thought, or act, it is a little easier 
for us than it was before — what we call habit. But, if 
the blood contains narcotic poison, it sears these delicate 
fibrils, as a hot iron sears your finger. When you injure 
the skin of your hand, the blood is sent to deposit a 
coarser substance, and protect the flesh of the hand by a 
harder skin, that we call a callous. So, for a long time, 
the blood is sent perseveringly by that mysterious intelli- 
gence that we — in our ignorance' — call the life force, to 
repair these delicate tendrils, and protect them from the 
poison by depositing a coarser substance on the surface, 
as it does on the hand. It is probably the irritable condi- 
tion of these injured nervelets — loaded with the blood 


224 


THE VOICE OF SCIENCE. 

sent to repair them — that causes the craving for more of 
the benumbing narcotic. The nerves seared by alcohol 
heal moie quickly than those seared by tobacco. 

“Yes, the recupeiative power of the human system is 
marvelous. But what is that mysterious power we call 
the life foice.^ When we examine the wonderful mech- 
anism of our organs — the complex network of arteries 
that cairy the nourishment to every part, and the compli- 
cated system of nerves — those living telegraph wires — 
that carry power even to the tiny sheath of muscle that 
wraps the minutest vein — we are amazed. We pride 
ourselves on our intellects, on our penetration of thought, 
our power of will. But the mind wearies, thought ceases, 
sleep overcomes the will. Who now is guarding the cit- 
adel of life? Spite of our boasted intellect, the arch- ene- 
my — Death — could walk in, and lay his finger on the 
heart — and sense would wake no more. Let us tread 
softly, for we are on holy ground, — the mystic border- 
land between life and death. What mysterious power 
keeps the heart beating, and eyery function of the inter- 
nal organs working perfectly, while mind and senses are 
unconscious with sleep or disease? Is it the omniscient 
wisdom of our Creator, watching every detail of our 
being? Or has he delegated that wonderful power to 
our own immortal spirits? Do they thus keep sleepless 
vigil over our bodies and brains until they become unfit 
for the habitation of spirits, and they take their flight? 
Is there an inner brain in which the spirit dwells — a tire- 
less inner brain that manages every detail of the most 
complicated machine ever created, without our conscious- 
ness ? How ignorant we are. How powerless to answer 
these queries. 

“As the blood becomes more saturated with the poison 
it, singes the ends of the fibrils, as fire burns a hair, and 
this is the result.’’ As she said this, she hung up a mag- 


225 


COFFIN NAIFS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

nified picture of a brain cell, where the ends of the tiny 
tendrils were, many of them, burned off short, and the 
rest were gnarled and knotted, much as the green rootlets 
of a little plant would be, if scorched for a moment with 
a blaze. “The maimed tentacles of the different cells can 
no longer touch each other, and the mind finds it diffi- 
cult to keep up a continuous line of thought — just as your 
words can not go from one telephone line tO' another, un- 
less the wires are connected. This accounts for the loss 
of memory, and slowness of thought of the tobacco user. 
The nerves of the whole body — though not so easily in- 
jured as those of the brain — become more or less seared 
and thickened in the same manner. The Professor of 
Drawing in the Annapolis Naval Academy said that he 
could tell a tobacco user from his inability to draw a 
clean, straight line; and you probably have noticed the 
trembling hand of the old whiskey or tobacco sot. The 
brain-cells at length become so impaired that they can 
only partially control the muscles, and functions of the 
internal organs, and diseases result. 

The nerve cells of the upper brain, which contains the 
reasoning and moral powers, are much more delicate and 
susceptible of injury than the hardier lower part of the 
brain, which control the vital functions. When the will 
is thus weakened, and the reasoning powers benumbed, 
the animal instincts are left uncontrolled, and selfishness 
and moral depravity result. In many cases the tobacco' 
poison finally destroys so many of the brain cells, that in- 
sanity ensues. Or, in the effort of nature tO' repair dam- 
ages, the imnoverished blood vainly trving to rebuild the 
burnedtendrils, so fills them in with fatty particles, and 
other coarser subtsances, that softening of the brain fol- 
lows, which verges on idocy. Brain workers, who nat- 
urally use up brain fibrils rapidly, are least able to stand 
this destruction of brain tissue. Owing to hereditary 

22 ( 


THE VOICE OF SCIENCE. 

tendencies, the number of brain workers who can use to- 
bacco with impunity is constantly diminishing.. 

“Where tobacco is not used until manhood, and is 
then used in moderation, by laboring mem with good 
constitutions, who work out of doors, these extreme ef- 
fects seldom follow, as the fresh air and vigorous exer- 
cise help to excrete much of the poison. But Dr. Dewey 
well said : ‘No tobacco user ever has the supremest use 
of his brain.’ And this constant struggle against the 
])oison is a reckless tax on vitality. Post mortem examin- 
ations often show the liver and kidneys of tobacco users 
badly swollen, and smelling strongly of tobacco, in their 
struggle to eliminate it from the blood. And the little 
white corpuscles, whose business it is to destroy disease 
germs in the blood, as well as dead matter, are kept so 
busy cleaning off the seared surface of the nerves, that 
they have not time to destroy all the disease germs. So 
the tobacco user is more liable than others to all diseases. 

“The tobacco user imagines that he can study or work 
better under its stimulus — and it is true that the stupefied 
nerves no longer feel the weariness, or restlessness that 
prevented his studying — but tobacco poison actually les- 
sens the activity and rapidity of thought. Dr. Paulson 
recently performed some experiments with an instrument 
of great precision, showing that it took one sixteenth of 
a second for a nerve impulse to travel from one hand to 
the brain, and back to the other hand. The smoking of 
fifteen cigarettes so benumbed the nerves, that it took 
fifteen sixteenths of a second for the nerve impulse to 
travel from hand to hand. Many other experiments 
have been made, proving that not the rapidity merely, 
but the quality of thought was deteriorated by smoking. 
Prof. Lombard, of the University of Michigan, used a 
delicate instrument, called an erograph, for measuring 
muscular power, and found that in from five to ten min- 


227 


COFFIN NAII.S : THE STORY OE JANE MCGREGOR 

utes after smoking a cigar, the smoker's muscular power 
diminished to twenty-five per cent of its previous value. 
Averaging measures taken at various times between the 
beginning of the smoke, and the time when its depression 
wore off, the smoker had lost nearly half of his muscular 
power during that time. 

Dr. Nathan S. Davis, who died not long ago, was not 
only one of Chicago’s oldest and most successful physi- 
cians, but one of the most eminent in America, having 
been known for nearly fifty years as the father of the 
American Medical Association. He said: ‘Some per- 
sons who use tobacco, live to extreme old age. How 
should this fact be regarded? Simply that such person 
inherited unusual tenacity of life. Tobacco lessens the 
sensibility of the br^in, and diminishes the activity and 
clearness of mental action. It also diminishes the vital 
properties of the blood, thus lessening the activity, effi- 
ciency and endurance of every function, botl; meni-?!. and 
physical; and retaining the injurious products of excre- 
tion, and the toxic micro- organisms from \vnthout. It 
therefore renders the individual more liable to attacks of 
disease, and more likely to die when attacked.' 

“Now, how does tobacco weaken the heart? In two 
ways. First: because the blood, being iii.paiied by the 
poison, fails to give it enough nourishment, and the mus- 
cles become flabby. Secondly: it is weakened just as all 
the muscles are weakened, because the nerves that control 
them are more or less paralyzed. Physicians often make 
the statement that tobacco is a sedative, and Dr. Laribee 
says : ‘E ven moderate doses of nicotine reduce the ac- 
tion of the heart.’ Prof. Edward Smith, of England, in 
a series of experiments, showed that the pulse of health- 
ful persons rose thirty-eight beats to the minute, during 
eleven minutes’ smoking ; and Prof. Broughton says : 
‘The heartbeat of a boy of twelve is increased fully twer- 

228 


the: voice oe science. 

ty per cent., with a corresponding irregular action, by 
smoking one cigarette. This looks like a contradiction, 
but it is not. The lower brain controls the heart by 
means* of two nerves — the accelerator nerve, which stim- 
ulates the heart to action, and the vagus nerve, which 
regulates its motions. They are like the mainspring and 
pendulum of a clock — the former keeps it going, and the 
latter regulates the action. Did you ever take off the 
pendulum of the clock, and notice how fast it flies, and 
how much more quickly it runs down ? The vagus nerve 
seems to be more easily paralyzed by tobacco poison than 
the accelerator nerve, and is always the first to be stu- 
pefied. The microscope reveals the fact that the blood- 
vessels are entwined by minute muscles that help to con- 
trol the circulation by tightening around the blood- 
flushed arteries and veins. . But these tiny muscles 
are ramified and controlled by still more minute nerves. 
The tobacco poison also stupefies these, tiny nerves, and 
the muscles lose their tensity. Then the blood — with all 
regulators loosened — flies through the arteries — and the 
man imagines tobacco is stimulating him. But a true 
heart stimulant sends the blood with strong steady beats, 
while, in the tobacco user, both irregularity and weakness 
are shown in the pulsation by the use of the sphygmo- 
scope.’’ Dr. McGregor then showed a chart containing 
two notched lines, and explained that they were the lines 
made by a delicate instrument placed on the pulse. The 
line made by a healthy pulse had deep notches, alternat- 
ing regularly with smaller notches, something like the 
teeth of a crosscut saw. But the mark made by the to- 
bacco user’s pulse was a very irregular wavy line, the 
indentations being less than a fourth as deep as the 
other. 'Tn many cases of fever,” said she, “the physi- 
cian recognizes this rapid running pulse as a symptom of 
approaching death — showing him that the vagus nerve is 


229 


COFFIN NAIIvS : THE STORY OF JANE m'GREGOR 

jjecoming paralyzed! — that the pendulum has stopped 
that the life machine will soon run down. 

“Later on, the accumulated tobacco poison finally 
affects the accelerator nerve also, and the heart-beat be- 
comes very irregular, and, some day stops suddenly. 
Sometimes, owing to the destruction of so many of the 
little red blood corpuscles, that they do not carry it 
enough nutrition, the muscles of the heart becomes filled 
with worn out particles, and particles of fat, and become 
too weak to work, and the man dies of fatty degeneracy 
of the heart. 

“The local effects, or specific diseases caused by to- 
bacco are never all manifest in one person, but each will 
be injured in his weakest part. But the weakening of 
vitality and the powers of endurance occur in every case. 
However much vitality we may have inherited, it never 
pays to overdraw our surplus of strength, nor to im- 
pair our energy and ambition. 

“William Allen White says: Tn these days of active 
competition it is the best brain that wins, and the man 
who knocks out his brains with tobacco, is knocked out 
of the contest for supremacy in any field of activity. 
When a .young man applies for a job, he is practicallv 
renting his brains, and no employer cares to hire a dam- 
aged set, when he can get a clean set just as well.' 

“Educators of wide observation testify that it is not 
cigarette smokers alone whose brains are injured by the 
habit, but tobacco users also. Dr. Seaver, of Yale Col- 
lege, said that in the ten years since he began observa- 
tions, not a single young man who used tobacco has 
graduated at the head of his class, and about one-third 
of the tobacco users dropped out before finishing the 
course. At Harvard not a single tobacco user has grad- 
uated at the head of his Hass for fifty years. 

“The ablest business men will soon put a ban on the 


230 


THE VOICE OF SCIENCE. 

cigar, as they have on the cigarette. This is not a matter 
of sentiment, but of shrewd business sense. They can 
not afford to risk business which involves millions in the 
hands of those who benumb their mental or moral facul- 
ties with narcotics. So great is the competition in busi- 
ness today that only the cleanest minds — the keenest per- 
ceptions — can win the race. The young men who use 
neither liquor or tobacco will be the successful business 
men of the future. The day is coming when the tippler 
and tobacco user will be relegated to the coal-mine or 
the railroad ditch. 

‘'You may imagine yourselves resolute enough to 
smoke in moderation, and hardy enough to stand the 
strain. But is it right to set the example before boys of 
weaker wills and weaker constitutions ? So long as busi- 
ness men smoke cigars, boys will smoke cigarettes. Do 
you realize the crime and trouble for which you will be 
held responsible? Judges tell us that ninety-five i>er 
cent, of boy criminals are cigarette smokers. Dr. Brough- 
ton, one of the physicians at the Keeley Cure, said that 
sixty per cent, of the men under forty who were treated 
for the opium or cocaine habit, were led to it by cigarette 
smoking. And Dr. Keely says that nearly every person 
brought for the cure of drunkenness was led to it by to- 
bacco, and that, if a patient afterwards returns to the 
smoking habit, he is sure also to return to the drink habit. 

“One of the latest victims of cigarettes is a twenty- 
yeai-old student of the Indiana Manual Training School. 
He was a physical giant, who did not begin smoking until 
he was nearly grown. Now he lies strapped to his bed, 
a helpless maniac. Over yonder, in Martinsville, Indiana, 
lay Fred Speer, in the agonies of death. His young wife, 
standing by, with her child in her arms, was almost pros- 
trate with grief. He had led almost a model life — the 
cigarette being his one fault, but that was costing him 


231 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

his life. Between his labored breaths, he gasped : ‘Oh ! 
I wish I could throw open all the windows, and call in 
all the boys who are smoking cigarettes, and warn them 
against it.’ 

Dare you be responsible for such conditions? Our 
young men still love their country. They proved it in 
Cuba and the Philippines. But these stealthy foes that 
are gnawing out the hearts and brains of young America, 
are more terrible than cruel Spaniard, or treacherous 
savage. Let every young man who loves his country 
show himself a hero. If he have no fears for himself, 
let him conquer his selfish habit, and help to save others 
from these twin enemies — liquor and tobacco.” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

A Momentous Question. 

S ENATOR CAMERON opened his morning mail, 
scanning it eagerly. Newspapers and ofificial let- 
ters were hastily pushed aside, until he picked up 
a letter addressed in a lady’s handwriting. He opened 
it hurriedly, and, as he read, his face expressed first 
pleasure, then doubt, perplexity, and disappointment. 
And here is the letter: 

‘'My Esteemed Friend : I must confess that a touch 
of comfort came to me when I knew that 3^011 loved me. 


232 


A MOMENTOUS QUESTION 

No woman can help being gladdened by the knowledge 
that she is lovable, and inspires love in some human 
heart. I am grateful for your appreciative letter. I fully 
value the great honor you have done me, in thus offering 
me the richest gift ever received by woman — a good 
man's love. But I am sorry to disappoint you, — to tell 
you that I can not accept your offer. I am wedded to the 
work that I think God has called me to do for humanity. 
I was always self-reliant, and years ago I could not bear 
the thought of giving up my "identity, or the sole right 
to my own thoughts and actions. When the importance 
of my life work grew upon me, it overshadowed all eise, 
and I tried to put behind me all other ambitious aspira- 
tions, all thoughts of my own happiness or comfort, 
and devote my whole life to the task of ridding my coun- 
try of the twin curses of drunkenness and narcotism, 
which are blighting so many lives. Some must needs 
sacrifice all else, and give their undivided strength to 
these reforms. But I have sometimes grown weary and 
discouraged, and envied my friends their homes. When 
we stood that day on. the deck, and, in the peril of that 
tottering iceberg, I looked into your eyes, I felt what I 
now know. That hour was my one glimpse into the joy 
that gladdens many a happy home. But when we said 
farewell, and I went on my lone journey, and watched 
the St. Lawrence binding its seething waters with gird- 
ers of ice; I too, resolutely crowded my tumultous feel- 
ings back, and bound them down with bolts of duty. I 
laid the memory of those few hours away in my heart, 
as we lay away mementoes of the dead — only to be taken 
out to cheer days of gloom. Do not think that I was 
trifling with you. I enjoyed your society, but f was so 
engrossed in my own plans, I did not dream of love, 
until the sea revealed us to ourselves. The thought of a 
happy life in your beautiful home made my heart throb 

233 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE m'GREGOR 

with a strange homesickness. But this happiness is not 
for me. The world is too full of sin and sorrow for me 
to spare time to rest here. The misery that I see, draws 
my heart out continually. The purpose of my life must 
be fulfilled. If it is a soldier’s duty to lay down his life 
that his government may be preserved, it certainly is my 
duty, when I see these terrible sins eating the very^ life 
out of the nation, to sacrifice my present happiness, and 
devote my life to its rescue. Yet, do not think I am un- 
happy. I love my work, and am content. I think some 
women can love a cause as well as they can a human be- 
ing. I think I am one of those. Some women yearn to 
be loved and cared for; others yearn for somebody to 
“do for.” I think I am one of the latter class, and must 
satisfy my yearning, by “doing for” the helpless victims 
of sin. I have worried lest you be disappointed, and 
hoped that, with you, it was only a passing fancy, a pleas- 
ant little episode in your busy life. If you were poor and 
homeless and lonely, I might feel that my duty pointed 
that way. But you are rich in wealth and home and 
friends. Your sister and daughter will make a pleasant 
home life for you. Do not worry about me. I shall 
ever keep busy and interested in my work. If T should 
ever become helpless, I trust God will provide some one 
to care for me a little while. And, in the life beyond, 
nerhaps our Father will let me rest, and enjoy to its full- 
e^i- sweetness, the love that passeth understanding-. 

God bless and strengthen you. Your sinc^^re friend. 

Jane M’Gregor. 

Throwing the letter down, he walked nervously to the 
window, and back, several times, then picked it up, and 
read it again. This time he seemed better pleased. As 
he leaned back in his chair, his cogitations ran something 
after this wise: “Pity is akin to love, they sav. Well, 


234 


A mome:ntous question 

1 11 teach her that there are wants and troubles deeper 
and bitterer than poverty or sickness. She certainly does 
love me, more perhaps than she herself realizes. But she 
is one of those women with whom duty is paramount to 
everything else. Like the martyrs of old, she would give 
up everything for what she thought was her duty. She 
does not think her own happiness or enjoyment ought to 
be considered in the least — nor mine, either, for that 
matter. She thinks because I am rich, and have plenty 
of friends, I need no pity. Oh ! If she only knew a 
man’s heart ! She hasn’t sounded the depths of love yet. 
But what wouldn’t she do or suffer for a man, when once 
her seart is stirred tO' its depths. I ought to have given, 
her more time to learn her own heart. I will teach her 
that duty lies right here. What an influence she might 
have as a senator’s wife. How much good she could do, 
here in the capital of the nation. What a help I could be 
to her in her reform work. I suppose she thinks this is 
the end. But I can not give her up, after such a glimpse 
into her heart. Congress will adjourn early this year, 
and then — ” So saying, he put the letter in a private 
drawer, and turned to his morning mail. 

Among the gentlemen with whom the Senator dined, 
at the hotel, that evening, was a Congressman from Ken- 
tucky, who seemed greatly interested in thoroughbred 
animals. He urged our friend and several other gentle- 
men to go around with him, that evening, to a dog show 
then being held in the city. The pavilion was thronged 
with people. Dogs there were, many and various. Sen. 
Cameron, who had paid no attention to things of this 
sort, was surprised at his own ignorance, when he heard 
men talk fluently of the merits of breeds, the ped- 
igrees of prize winners, and the proper care and training 
during growth. The Senator remarked about the clean- 
liness of the show-room, and was answered : 


235 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE m'GREGOR 

“If we want fine dogs, we must see that they are not 
injured by any unfavorable influences. ’ 

As he passed out, it occurred to him that he had seldom 
seen so many men together without noticing tobacco 
smoke. Glancing back, he saw a large sign that he had 
overlooked as he went in, which read: “Smoking not 
allowed, it hurts the dogs," and he wondered if dogs 
were more important than boys. 

And where was the good woman who had been the ob- 
ject of Sen. Cameron's solicitude? That morning found 
her reading a newspaper in the home of a friend who was 
entertaining her at the time of her lecture in that place. 
Suddenly she gave an exclamation that startled her 
friend. i 

“Is it possible! A horrible murder! A son kills his 
mother! The murdered woman’s name is that of one of 
my old schoolmates.” 

“Is it possible? That is terrible!” 

“Yes, listen,” and she read: “This morning the peo- 
ple of North Third street were startled by a young girl 
running out of one of the buildings in her night robes, 
screaming ‘Murder ! Murder !’ A policeman ran in, fol- 
lowed by a crowd, and found a dying woman on the flocw 
weltering in her own blood, caused by wounds and 
bruises on the head. Her son was found, hiding in a 
closet, still clutching the stick of wood with which he had 
just beaten his mother to death. The young man was ar- 
rested, and the coroner’s inquest will be held at three 
o’clock this afternoon. The dead woman’s name is Mrs. 

lossie Carson, that of the son is Henry Leonard Car- 
son.” 

“That is a horrible affair! But I do not know the 
family.” 1 

“I wonder is it is really my schoolmate ? She was left a 
widow with two children. I must hunt them up.” 

236 


A MOMENTOUS QUESTION 

Miss McGregor found the house, just as the people 
were gathering for the inquest. She scanned the face of 
the dead woman, which was thin and haggard. Trouble 
had drawn down the once pretty mouth until it was un - 
recognizable. The peachbloom complexion was now sal- 
low, the yellow hair — always in curls — was streaked with 
gray, disheveled, and clotted with blood, but it still waved 
about the forehead, and the nose, a little sharper, had the 
same delicate outline. Yes, it was Flossie. Several 
women entered, leading a crying girl. A glance at her 
pretty face, now red with weeping, almost startled Jane 
by its strong resemblance to Henry Carson. She made 
herself known to the girl, and, *with kindly sympathy, 
learned something of her history. At her grandfather’s 
death, it was found that his money had been lost in un- 
fortunate investments. Her mother had taken in sew- 
ing, and her brother had found work, and they had got- 
ten along very well until her brother lost his place be- 
cause he smoked cigarettes, and could not be trusted. 
“And,” said she, “he has grown so cross that he has 
made us miserable, and for days, he has smoked all the 
time, even getting up in the night to smoke. I was 
awakened by mother’s screams this morning” — and the 
poor girl exclaimed, between her sobs: “Oh! I think 
he has gone crazy!” 


2,37 


CHAPTER XXV. 


A Conscientious Druggist. 


N OW we find Jane McGregor in Chicago, in the ele- 
gant home of our old friend George Winthrop. 
During her visit, that afternoon, with Minnie and 
her mother, Jane praised their beautiful flowers. 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Heath, “Minnie loves to tend hn* 
plants. Even when she was sick, she used to lie there 
and plan what sick or needy person, or what lonely or 
tempted soul might be helped by a few flowers.” 

“And I always tie them with the white ribbon, and 
slip in a helpful text-card,” Minnie added, “so the W. C. 
T. U. will receive the thanks.” ' 

“I am so glad you keep up your interest in the tem- 
perance work, and especially in the Loyal Legions.'' 

“I hardly see how I could have lived through my lone- 
liness without this work. For a long time I could not 
go out, but I had the union meet with me, and it bright' 
ened my days to lie here and plan work for the well peo- 
ple to do. I especially enjoy the work among the child- 
ren, and there is so much need of it here in the city. 
The cigarettes are ruining the school-children. Some of 
the girls, even, are learning to smoke.” 

“Yes.” said Mrs. Heath, “It is terrible to see how soon 
tliey show the bad effects. We were coming home one 
evening, when we passed three pale, stunted little fellows, 
smoking cigarettes. When we asked where they went to 
school, one of them replied: ‘We don’t go to school. 


A CONSCIENTIOUS DRUGGIST 

We just play hookie when we do go, 'cause we have to 
smoke all the time.” 

“’Why! How often do you smoke?’’ I asked 

“ ’Bout every five minutes. But, lady, we wants to 
stop, if we only could. Can’t you give us some medicine 
so we can stop?’ We took their addresses, and visited 
them. We found that one had heart trouble, and fell 
down in the street, or anywhere ; another had lung troub- 
le; and the third 'got crazy’ as he called it. We put 
them under a physician’s care, but he says they are past 
saving.” 

“And yet the laws against selling tobacco to children 
are violated with impunity. It is little short of murder.” 

When their conversation had returned to personal 
matters, Mrs. Heath said that Prof. King was in a col- 
lege in the city, and that she had met him and his wife. 

“And is Laura still dignified and haughty?” asked 
Jane. 

“She is not haughty, but is dignified and affable, when 
at herself. One day I was in a store, when I observed a 
lady at another counter, who appeared familiar, but I 
could not place her. Her face looked strangely old, and 
her eyes glassy, and she was so nervous that I thought 
she must be sick. When the clerk left her, she glanced 
stealthily around, but, as I was behind a pile of goods, 
she did not see me. Taking something from her pocket- 
book, she shoved up her sleeve, and I caught the flash of 
what looked like a tiny dagger. I was startled, but she 
put it back, and took her goods, and passed out.” 

“A morphine syringe, no doubt,” said Jane. 

“So I concluded, for I had read of such things. As 
she passed me, I was astonished to* recognize our old 
friend, Mrs. Laura King. Afterwards we met her and 
Prof. King at a social. She was glad to meet us, and ap- 


239 


COFFIN NAIFS : THE STORY OF JANE m'GREGOK 

p*.‘ared vivacious, and her eyes shone brightly. She called 
....er, and seemed unnaturally talkative.” 

“Doubtless she was under the influence of the drug. " 

“I called often, hoping to win her confidence. One 
(’ay, when I found her unusually nervous, I ventured to 
. sk if she used any narcotic. She denied it at once, as if 
.mended. Then I told iier what I had seen, and begged 
her to confide in me. She confessed that she had taken 
patent medicines for neuralgia, until they had lost their 
power, and then, unknown to her husband, she resorted 
to morphine, and that she was miserable whenever she 
tried to do without it. I told her the danger, unless she 
had courage to give it up, and she promised to begin at 
once. A few weeks later, her daughter sent for me, be- 
cause her mother was sick. She met me at the door, 
telling me that her mother was out of her head, and that 
her father and the family physician were both out of 
town. Giving her the address of a physician, I hurried 
to her mother. With eyes as wild as ever stared from a 
lunatic’s cell, Laura lay on her bed, watching me fur- 
tively, as I entered. 

‘T am sorry to see you sick,” I said gently, but she 
exclaimed : 

“Oh, Mrs. Heath, I am so glad you have come to help 
me! Have pity on a poor bereaved mother. My bov! 
My poor boy! Oh, I loved him so! He was my first- 
born, you know, and he is dead. Oh! why don’t they 
find him? Why don’t they bring him to me?” 

“It is a mistake about his being dead. We will tele- 
phone for him,’ I replied. 

“Oh, no. He’s drowned, and they can’t find him. I 
saw him in the bottom of the creek, with the fishes 
eating him, and the slimy snakes coiling round his neck. 
Oh, Mrs. Heath, make them take him out!” and her 
hands clinched mine, as in a vice, and her eyes shone 


240 


A CONSCIENTIOUS DRUGGIST 

with a terrible pathos. I tried to sooth her, but suddenly 
she cried out : ‘Oh, my little girls ! My little girls ! 
Somebody’s murdering them ! Run, run!' I went to the 
door, and coming back, told her they were all right. But 
she cried out fiercely : ‘You lie! Just hear them sci earn'. 
Oh, those awful screams! Run, run!’ I went out and 
brought the children in, but she cried: ‘Those are not 
my children; those are dead children. What do you 
mean, pulling dead children out of the grave? Take 
them away.’ Taking the children on my lap, I soon had 
them talking, and said to her, ‘They are you own 
little girls; don’t you see, now, Laura?’ 

“ ‘Yes, T see, they are all right, now,’ she replied, 
‘but where is my husband?’ — with an awful accusing 
emphasis on the question. ‘He went on a trip, but will 
return this evening.’ ‘Don’t tell me that,’ she hissed. 
‘He is dead. I saw the doctor shoot him. I will never 
see him alive again. Oh, Mrs. Heath!’ she wailed, ‘you 
don’t know what trouble is. He has been lying down 
there in the cellar four days all bloody, and the rats 
crawling over him. Why don’t they take him out?’ 
Presently she called for a drink, and when I returned 
with it, I caught the gleam of her morphine needle, as 
she was hiding it under her pillow. I made an excuse 
to turn her, and slipped it out, just as I heard the doctor 
coming. She watched him like a cat, and would not 
let him touch her. He beckoned me to follow him, say- 
ing: ‘I find no disease except nervous debility. Do you 
know her habits?’ I handed him the morphine needle. 

“Just as I thought,” said he. “We wdll have a 
serious time.” 

“After he left she whispered, ‘That matn came here 
to kill me, but I watched him too closely.’ When the 
children came in again, she whispered, ‘Where are we? 
You all look like dead people, so ghastly and green.’ 


241 


COFf^IN nails: the story of jane MCGREGOR 

“When Prof. King returned, it was decided to provide 
a trained nurse to watch her, and break her of the habit 
by degrees. Her sufferings were terrible, and, walch 
her closely as they could, the doctor thought she often 
got more, in some way, than they allowed her, and, a 
few weeks ago, they took her to a sanitarium.” 

“A sad story,” commented Jane. “And there are 
hundreds of such cases, and thousands more who are 
fast nearing that hopeless stage where no dose is strong 
enough to ease their agonies, without causing death 
There is no bondage so terrible as that of a morphine 
fiend. I recall a sad case, that of a brilliant and con- 
scientious physician. He had a large practice, and would 
not decline any of it, and night after night he was kepi 
U]) without sleep. At last his brain reached that excit- 
able stage when sleep seemed impossible) — and he took 
morphine. He knew the danger, and promised him- 
self it should only be a few times, until the rush was 
over. But the rush continued, and again and again he 
resorted to morphine to secure sleep, thinking each time 
must be the last. Ere he knew it, he was a slave When 
•e realized his helpless condition, he -confided his sad 
secret to a brother physician, and was taken to a sani- 
tarium for treatment. It was too late. He died in a 
few weeks. 

“As with tobacco, so with opium, the most sensitive 
nervous organizations fall the easiest victims.” 

Jane was glad to meet her old schoolmate, George 
Winthrop, on his return from business, and they all en- 
joyed the evening together. At length their conversa- 
tion turned to the cigarette evil, and the anti-cigarette 
work among the children, and Jane asked: 

“How many Anti-Cigarette Leagues have vou in the 
city?” 

“I don’t know,” replied George. “There are large 


242 


A coNScrn'K’’;-'!,!’?, r:r<uGGisT 

Leagues in the schools, which usually have girfs auxil- 
iaries; then we have Leagues in nearly every large bus- 
iness house. It is the testimony of the business men 
that the boys become much more reliable where they 
belong to them. Every boy in our store belongs.. They 
meet once a week, at the noon hour ; and the songs, rec- 
itations and talks are quite enthusiastic. They work 
among the boys on. the street in their leisure time, dis- 
tributing literature, and trying to get them to sign the 
anti-cigarette pledge. Friends •sometimes provide a spe- 
cial treat for the League meetings, a speech, a chalk 
talk, stereoptican views, or a lunch.” 

“You are doing a grand work, and 1 hope to learn 
much while here.” 

When their talk had drifted to persona'l matters, 
George was saying: “When I set up business, I sold 
neither liquor, bitters, nor tobacco. After I had learned 
some things about patent medicines, I poured a lot of 
them in the ditch'. People said I would fail, but I en- 
larged my business along legitimate lines, and I have 
succeeded.” 

“To be sure!” said Jane, “people trust a man who 
stands by his principles. You did what every Christian 
ought to do, in refusing to sell what injures others, at 
the risk of losing money. Temperance people learned 
long ago that bitters were only disguised liquors, but it 
is hard to teach them that many other patent medicines 
are as dangerous. But I happen to know, from people 
who live near the factories, that make some of the pop- 
ular catarrh remedies, that barrels of alcohol are hauled 
there every day.” ’ 

“Worse than that! It is usually raw spirits. They 
get it over here at Peoria by the car load. Cubeb ber- 
ries are usually the only real medicine in those catarrhal 


243 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

remedies, and there isn't more than a nickel’s worth in 
a bottlefull.” 

“Our Woman's Temperance Union has been having 
liquor drugged medicines tested and exposed for ten 
years, but narcotic drugs seem to be the wolves in 
sheep’s clothing lately. What is your experience?" 

“I never sold opium, morphine, chloral nor cocaine 
without a physician's prescription, and of late years, 1 
include soothing syrups, pain-killers, nervines, headache 
medicines, and several other remedies in the list." 

“Two-thirds of the patent medicines contain either 
alcohol or narcotics, and those soothing syrups out- 
herod Herod in the murder of babes,” commented Jane. 

“Yes, and one of the most extensively advertised 
cough syrups contains one-eighth of a grain of morphine 
to every ounce of syrup. Many headache powders and 
neuralgia cures contain either morphine, cocaine, cola 
leaf, or some of the drugs that are known to depress 
the heart; yet most druggists sell them without a word 
of warning.” 

“To be sure! I have known cases where heart trouble 
and death were caused by some patent medicine taken 
for a trifling ailment, and other cases where the user 
became either insane, or a drug fiend.” 

“There is an astonishing demand for these nostrums, 
judging from the amount the proprietors spend for ad- 
vertising. Drs. Pierce and Hood each spend seven hun- 
dred and fifty thousand dollars a year, and Scott’s Emul- 
sion, and Lydia Pinkham each three hundred and fifty 
thousand, and others at the same rate.” 

“And none but physicians and druggists know how 
many of these nostrum dupes finally become opium, 
chloral or cocaine fiends. Have you any idea how many 
drug fiends there are in the country?” 


244 


A CONSCII:NTl VDS DRUGGIST 


'‘Druggists estimate variously, from six hundred thou- 
sand to a million/’ 

“It’s awful!” said Minnie, “what wicked things peo- 
ple will do for money?” 

“Yes,” answered George, “men will do anything for 
money. They put their flaming advertisements every-, 
where. The Tobacco Trust equals the patent medicine 
men. It spemls a million dollars a year advertising — 
seventy-five thousand dollars for one brand of cigar- 
ettes.” 

“A million dollars!” iexclaimed jVlinnie. “I don’t 
wonder, though, when I think of the prizes they offer. 
Little boys see how many cigarettes they can smoke, and 
save the coupons to get anything a boy likes, from a 
whistle to a gun or watch.” 

“That is what nT.en call business, is it?” asked Jane. 

“Yes, that is our American idea of business,” replied 
George. “J. B. Duke spent four millions advertising 
his 'Battle Ax,’ and it brought him twelve millions. For 
ten years the rival tobacco companies boomed business 
with an energy worthy of a better cause. ' But at last 
Duke cornered them all, and brought them to terms. 
Then he competed with the English trade in South 
Africa, by shipping to all the stations, and giving a gold 
watch to every trader who handled his goods. He tried 
the same plan in England, with prefniums ten times as 
large, until he compelled the English dealers tO' come to 
terms, and they consolidated, forming the British and 
American Tobacco Company, with a capital of thirty 
million dollars, and Duke at its head.” 

“Quite a Napoleon in his way,” commented Jane. 

“Yes, in greed and heartlessness,” replied Mrs. Heath. 

“I wonder if Duke’s own boys use tobacco?” asked 
Minnie. 

“I do not know,” answered George, “but they say that 
245 


COFFIN NAIFS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

Durham, another big tobacco dealer, won't let his boys 
touch it. I saw the latest revenue returns the other day, 
about tobacco, and laid it up. Taking the paper from 
his desk he read various figures, among them these 
items : Americans made and sold last year nearly eleven 
billion cigarettes, and a third of a billion pounds of 
chewing and smoking tobacco. They smoked over six 
billion cigars, and the dealers paid fifty-one million dol- 
lars tobacco revenue into the national treasury, besides 
paying large sums for party campaign purposes, to 
prevent anti-tobacco legislation.” 

“Yes, the government is virtually in partnership with 
both the liquor and tobacco trusts,” exclaimed Jane. 

“In one state,” added George, “the attorney for a 
large liquor firm was bold enough to say, when the\ 
were trying to pass an anti-cigarette bill : ‘You folks 
keeps your hands off the cigarettes. We must not let 
anything interfere with this cigarette business. It helps 
our business. If we can get the boys to smoke cigarettes 
while they are little, they will be our customers when 
they are grown, and we’ve got to have customers.’ ” 

“When Gates, the steel millionaire was here,” said 
Mrs. Heath, “he said to Miss Gaston ; ‘What can you 
do against the men who are making millions in the to- 
bacco business? The dividends are increasing at the 
rate of from five to ten per cent annually. I know this, 
because I own some of the stock.’ It seems almost hope- 
less when unscrupulous men unite like a band of robbers 
to nun the children.” 

“Yes, but, if we can only arouse the mothers to the 
danger, with God’s help, we will show these money-kings 
that mother love can fight, like a tigress for her whelps.” 
replied Jane. 


246 


CHAPTER XXVL 


The Burden oe Guiut. 

T he court was in session. A large crowd had as- 
semhled .to see and hear the trial of Leonard Car- 
son, for the murder of his mother. Jane McGregor 
had so arranged her appointments that she could be pres- 
ent, and Mrs. Heath had accompanied her. 

The witnesses had all been examined, and the prosecut 
ing attorney had summed up the evidence, which, he 
said, proved clearly that the son had, in a fit of sullen 
rage at his mother, for denying him money, brutallv 
beaten her to death. 

The attorney for the defense did not deny that the ac- 
cused committed the murder, but plead that the defend- 
ant was not criminally responsible, that he was, at the 
time he committed the crime, a cigarette fiend. “A to- 
bacco fiend,’ continued he, ‘is to all intents and purposes 
ail' insane man, and not responsible for acts committed 
while under the influence of that narcotic. The. expert 
testimony given, cited and quccted by the witness. Dr. 
Burns, proves my statement. Let me repeat it : ‘Dr. 
Charleton Simeon, the eminent specialist, says : ‘My 
investigations teach me that thousands of young men 
and boys are dragged by the cigarette habit into insan- 
ity and crime. The stomach — the mainspring of our vi- 
tality! — is the first slave of the habit. Then the heart 
refuses to pump the virulent blood but slowly through 
the arteries. The brain becomes sluggish. The will be- 
comes impaired. The mind is full of wild fancies, the 


247 


COFFIN NAIFS : THF STORY OF JANE m'GREGOR 

heart full of strange desires. The actions are not guided 
by the will. Normal deeds vanish, and theft, murder, 
and other horrible crimes result.’ 

“Dr. A. L. Gray, of Chicago, a prominent specialist 
in nervous diseases, said of Tolstoi's ‘Ethics of Tobacco : 
‘Tolstoi ascribes a demoralizing influence to tobacco, 
but I do not think he goes far enough. He cites many 
instances of crimes committed after the criminal had 
smoked a cigar, or cigarette, but his explanation is that 
they smoked to give them nerve. I say they might not 
have been murderers if they had not used tobacco. Un- 
derstand me ; I do not say a man will kill somebody be- 
cause he uses tobacco, but I do say that ninety-nine out 
of a hundred murderers use tobacco.’ 

“The Superintendent of the Texas Insane Asylum* 
said: ‘Tobacco puts more people in the asylum than 
whisky.’ 

“The officers of Chicago observed that the enforce- 
ment of the anti-cigarette law reduced the number of 
boys adjudged insane.’ 

“The physicians of the Iowa Insane Asylum stated 
that two hundred of the inmates were crazed by cigar- 
ettes. Dr. Burns, himself, states : ‘I can point you to 
many individual cases of insanity from this cause; the 
best known being that of Cassius Beldon of New York. 
It was found at his trial, that he came of a family that 
had no taint of insanity, that he drank no liquor, and, in 
this case, he was not even a cigarette fiend. His sister 
testified that he began both chewing and smoking tobacco 
when very young, and that the habit grew on him, until 
he smoked cigars almost incessantly. He became irrita- 
ble and demented, but was pronounced harmless. For 
several days before committing his crime, he had smoked 
constantly, lighting one cigar from the stump of another. 
Suddenly he became frenzied, rushed into the rooms of 

248 


THE BURDEN OR GUILT 

the Board of Trade, flourished his revolver wildly, and 
shot into the crowd, killing three persons before he could 
be seized.' " The lawyer then cited the evidence of the 
physicians as to the irresponsibility of the prisoner. He 
stated that the boy had learned the habit, without know- 
ing its evils. “Then,” said he, “followed loss of will 
power, broken health, shattered nerves — and finally that 
terrible delirum, when the mind runs riot with the de- 
lusions of a madman, Savage animals and demons of 
hell seemed lurking in every corner. When he struck 
his mother down, he knew not that it was his mother, 
but imagined her a ferocious wild beast, crouching for 
attack. He was found hiding in a closet, and begged 
those who' found him to protect him. When he came 
to his senses, he could only remember it as one of many 
horrid dreams. You say that he shows no insanity now. 
He has been deprived of his cigarettes since his arrest, 
and has been under the care of a physician. But you 
have only to look at his pallid skin, his sunken eyes, his 
tremulous limbs — to know that he will never again be 
the same bright, healthy boy.” The prisoner, who had, 
all this time, sat with his head bowed on his arms, now 
raised it, exclaiming: “Heaven knows I did not meait 
to kill her! I did not know it was mother! I can’t un- 
derstand how that awful fear came over me. Oh! Save 
me! I can’t die. I’m afraid of hell.” His sister, who 
was weeping violently, begged to be allowed to go to 
him. On being refused, she burst into such a hysterical 
fit of sobbing, that the officer was obliged to take her 
from the room. Mrs. Heath went with her, but Dr. Mc- 
Gregor remained. 

“Gentlemen of the jury,” continued the lawyer, “this 
young man is the victim of custom. It is considered a 
manly habit to treat and be treated. The prisoner’s 
father yielded to this custom, — and fell, a victim of 


249 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

strong drink. The son inherited from him a weak will.^ 
and an excitable, nervous physique. It is considered a 
manly habit to smoke tobacco. So thought this son, 
but, with his heritage of irresolution and diseased nerves, 
it was destruction. He is more sinned against than sin- 
ning. Be careful that you do not complete his ruin by 
dooming him to sudden death. Long life can never be 
his, it is too late for that now, but perhaps, if he is spar- 
ed a few more years, he may redeem his soul from ever- 
lasting death. Gentlemen of the jury, when yon appear 
before the tribunal of an omnipotent judge, I hope you 
may not be among those who are adjudged by omnis- 
cient wisdom as guilty accessories to this, heinous crime 
— in that you have helped to uphold a custom which has 
led this young man to his doom.” 

The prosecuting attorney, in making his closing ad- 
dress to the jury, claimed that the evidence was not suf- 
ficient to prove insanity. After replying to other argu- 
ments, and citing and quoting legal opinions, he said : 
“Granting that a cigarette or a cigar, like a glass of 
liquor, does, for the time being, throw a man into a 
brazen and delirious state of mind, making him capable 
of committing a horrible crime — it is his own fault. He 
knows that it will have that efYect on his brain, and un- 
doubtedly takes it because he knows he could not muster 
courage for the crime without it. Men know* — or ought 
to know, in this intelligent age^ — that both liquor and to- 
bacco tend to make men brutal ; and are liable to so effect 
their minds as to make them liable to commit crimes. It 
is very common for men who wish to commit murder, 
but who shrink from the horror of the crime, to drink 
liquor before performing the terrible act. But it is not 
so well known that tobacco is often used for the same 
purpose. One of the specialists quoted by the attornev 
for the defense, states that men do use tobacco for that 


250 


THE BURDEN OF GUIET 


purpose. Here, is Tolstoi’s work, to which he refers, and 
here is one of the incidents told to prove that men do 
smoke to harden themselves to commit crime : ‘A porter 
killed his mistress, a French lady, who had immense 
wealth in diamonds and jewelry stored in an antique 
cabinet. The key she kept always under her pillow. 
This porter — who was rarely seen without his pipe — 
was influenced by cupidity, but lacked the courage to 
destroy his employer. Night after night, with a dagger 
in his hand, he ascended to the lady’s chamber, and 
watched her regular breathing, — but each time his heart 
failed- him. At last, one night, he went into an ante- 
chamber, smoked a cigarettel — turned to the sleeping 
\'ictim — drove the dagger into her heart — drew it out- 
wiped it wdth a handkerchief, and then burned the hand- 
kerchief. These facts were all confessed by himself 
w hen he w^as arrested and charged with the crime.’ Onl3’ 
a short time ago, Samuel G. Stoddard of Chicago, got 
up at five o’clock, smoked a cigar to deaden his con- 
science, and then fired a bullet into the heart of his sleep- 
ing wdfe. 

“Should such murderers, therefore, be held guiltless? 
Bv no means. The man who, knowingly foi*ms such 
habits, and knowingly puts himself into a condition fa- 
vorable for committing crime, is guilty of that crime. 
He is guilty, even though, at the moment of committing 
it, he may have his mind benumbed to the horror of the_ 
deed by the liquor, cigarette, or cigar that he has used 
for that purpose. Shall such criminals go unDunished? 
By no means — lest every man who is tempted to commit 
a crime, smoke a cigar to harden his heart — and be 
turned loosq on the community.” The attornev then pro- 
ceeded with other points to the close of his argument, 
and the case went to the jury. 

In his charge to the jury, the judge said: “If the 


251 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

entire evidence, in this cause raises a reasonable doubt 
as to the sanity of the accused, at the time of the com- 
mission of the crime, he is entitled to an acquittal. 

“If you find from the evidence, that the mind of the 
defendant, at the time of the commission of the crime, 
was so far destroyed by a long-continued habit of cigar- 
ette smoking as to render him mentally incompetent to 
form an intent to do the act charged in the indictment, 
then he is entitled to an acquittal. But, if you believe 
from the evidence that the prisoner smoked cigarettes 
for the puropse of hardening his heart to the horrors of 
his crime, or, if you are convinced that he performed the 
act by which deceased came to her death in full conscious- 
ness of his act, you will return a verdict of guilty.” 

The jury rendered a verdict of not guilty. 

In his closing remarks, the judge said: “I ask why, 
in the name of justice, does this government, which 
claims to protect the lives and liberties of its subjects, 
allow poisons sold, which bereave men of reason, and 
make even good, kindhearted men capable of committing 
such horrid crimes? And why, above all things, are such 
poisons allowed to be sold to mere boys, who are utterly 
ignorant of their demoralizing effects? In this land 
every man is responsible for the laws. Who, in the eyes 
of the Supreme Judge of Heaven and earth, is guilty of 
this murder? Surely, not this frenzied boy, whose de- 
luded hand struck the blow, but rather the nation which 
allowed the poison sold that crazed his brain.” 


252 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


Beneath the Evergreens. 


J ANE and Nellie had been attending a convention, 
and Nellie had received a telegram from her hus- 
band stating that one of the old students was to be 
buried the next day, and Jane had decided to return with 
her. They reached the depot to find the train late. 
Women talked, babies fretted, and men walked the floor, 
and one lighted a cigar. A lady exclaimed, “This smoke 
is making me sick. I think we have a right to fresh 
air.’' 

“I dislike smoke myself,” spoke up a quiet looking' 
man, “and I think, too, that we have the right to fresh 
air. From the looks of that banner, I judge the next 
generation will be less selfish and filthy.” 

“Yes,” replied Miss McGregor, who was carrying a 
banner, that had been used in drilling the children at the 
convention, bearing the motto: “No liquor nor tobacco 
for us;” “we are trying to train the children right.’' 

“When I was a boy,” continued the gentleman, “it was 
common for men to teach boys to use tobacco; but let a 
business man see his hands doing that now, and they are 
likely to lose their jobs. My work is drilling for coal, 
and other formations, and it is dangerous business. Ev- 
ery once in a while something breaks, and the machinery 
flies loose, but I always keep as cool-headed as I am now, 
and know which way to jump, or what to do; but the 
men get excited, and jump, right into danger. I tell 


253 


COFFIN NAIFS : THE STORY OF JANE m'GREGOR 

them, sometimes, that if they had never tiioched liquor 
or tobacco, they could keep as cool-headed as I do.” 

“I did not learn to use tobacco when I was young,” 
remarked another man, “but when I went into politics, 
I was continually thrown into company with men who 
smoked, and unpleasantly nauseated. Our office in the 
courthouse was often blue with smoke, and I was obliged 
to learn to smoke in self-defense.” 

Just then the whistle sounded, and there was a rush 
to the train, and Jane set her banner up in the car. It 
was not long till she heard a man behind her say : “Those 
ladies must have been at a temperance convention, look 
at their banner. Brown.” 

“It is time something was done, the way cigarettes 
are ruining the boys.” 

“You cannot realize the effects of the tobacco habit 
unless you see it in parts of the South. I tried to sell 
books down there, and it seemed to me it would take at 
least four generations to bring those people up to the av- 
erage American,” said another gentleman. 

“In what way are they inferior?” asked Brown. 

“They are not idiotic, but you meet hundreds of peo- 
ple in the road who' look at you with a vacant stare, des- 
titute of intelligence. The climate is healthful, but the 
older people are swarthy and pale, and aged and wrinkled 
beyond their years. A woman of thirty-five looks to be 
fifty, and a woman of fifty is a wrinkled old hag. 1 
never saw such vacant dried up wrinkled old faces as 
some of them are. They are religious in their way, but 
illiterate. Less than three-fourths of them can read, and 
they spend twelve times as much for tobacco as for 
schools. The men have hardly energy enough to make 
a living, and Hie women sit around their stick fireplaces 
and chew snuff, and spit their fires out, and leave their 
houses unkempt and dirty.” 


254 


BENEATH THE EVERGREENS 

"That is the station wheie we change cars, exclaimed 
Nellie, and they hurriedly gathered up their bag'gage, to 
get off. The agent at the little station was scarcely 
inoie than a boy, and, as he took a cob pipe from his 
mouth to answer their questions, Jane noticed how his 
hand tiemuled. Just then a man entered with a freight 
bill, saying: “You didn't add this right. See, here’s 
your mistake,” he added, as the boy again figured it in- 
correctly. 

'‘Thank you. I'm full of mistakes lately, but don’t re- 
port me, please.” 

“What’s the matter with you, you look sick.” 

“It’s cigarettes. I made mistakes, and they told me I 
nad to quit smoking them, or I’d lose my job. I’m try- 
ing to steady my nerves with this old pipe, ’cause they 
are worse since I quit.” 

“Too bad. I’ll help you keep your books straight till 
you get over this.” 

Jane just had time to add a word of advice about re- 
placing the pipe with treatment for his nervous weakness, 
when their train pulled up, and they boarded it and 
reached Eudora in time for the funeral. 

After the defeat of the college crew through the fau't 
of Cyrus Linville, he had finished his studies in a law- 
yer’s office, and had been admi’.icd to the hci. He lad. 
not renounced tobacco, even after his college experience. 
He married Irene, and practiced law in a western state. 
His talents and eloquence soon won success, and he had 
built a beautiful home, and had supplied his family with 
comforts and luxuries. He had tried to smoke moderate- 
ly, but, as his practice and perplexities increased, the 
number of his cigars had increased also. His memory 
became treacherous, causing him to- lose several cases, 
and his business was declining. He was working on an 


255 


COFFIN NAILS I THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

iiiipoitant case, wnicn, couia lie nave won it, would not 
only have brought a large fee, but would have restored 
his waning prestige. He worked on the case with unus- 
ual energy, stimulating his flagging brain by constant 
smoking, and felt assured of success. But he had not 
proceeded far with his plea when he liegan to blunder. 
He forgot facts, mixed dates, and confused arguments. 
After the judge had charged the jury, he remembere^i 
that he had left out the most convincing part of his 
speech. He lost the case, and went home, nearly sick 
over his defeat. For several days his wife observed that 
he acted strangely. One day, as he lay on the sofa, he 
referred to the cat as “that monkey,” and asked her what 
that peacock was doing in her chair. She thought he 
referred, jocosely, to her bright-colored wrapper. But 
he showed fear of her dress, and, when the cat jumped 
on the sofa, he crie'd out, as though frightened, “Put 
that grinning monkey out!” She sent for the doctor, 
who called a counsel, and it was decided that he had soft- 
ening of the brain, caused by excessive smoking; and it 
was determined to take away his cigars, by degrees, at 
first, and put him under treatment. As he seemed per- 
fectly harmless, his wife and daughter took turns in 
watching with him and giving him his medicine. The 
latter part of the night his wife, seeing that he was asleep 
lay down by him, and slept also. When she awoke the 
sun was shining, and her husband was gone. She looked 
into the sitting room and saw, by the cigar stumps on 
the floor, that he had been smoking. Stepping to the 
bathroom door, she saw him in the bathtub. Horrors! 
The bjood gushed from a gash in his throat — his razor 
was clinched in his hand. Her unearthly scream brought 
her daughter to her side. At the woful sight, scream 
after scream also burst from her frenzied lips. Help 
came quickly to the two stricken women ; but there was 

256 


BENEATH THE EVERGREENS 

no help for the poor man who had shed his own blood. 
What strange hallucination had led him to commit the 
horrid deed, no man knows, and no one ever will know 
but the all-seeing Father, who knows all the secrets of 
the human heart. 

The casket was taken back to their childhood’s home, 
and buried beside his friends, in the graveyard at Eudora. 

As Irene passed out between the evergreens, her eyes 
fell on the old familiar Seminary, among the walnut 
trees. There came l)ack to her a vivid recollection of 
their old debate, and Jane’s closing words : “They sow 
to the wind, they shall reap the whirlwind.’’ 

x\fter a brief visit, the bereaved and unhappy woman 
returned to her desolate home. 

What a blessing, or what a curse, is memory. Who 
can comprehend it? Above and beyond all fleshly pow- 
ers of body or brain, it holds in its immortal keeping 
every thought, every event, from beginning to end of 
life. How thoughts of the past will spring up uncalled. 
How the mem.ories of wrongs we have committed, or 
o])portunities for good we have omitted, trouble our old 
age. In the long dark nights, how they drive sleep from 
our eyes. How we seem to hear the voices of our loved 
ones, and recollections of words and deeds of ours that 
have caused them pain and sorrow — or something we 
might have done to make them happy — come back, and 
bring us bitter tears. We seem to hear their moans of 
pain in the silence. The staring eyes, and rigid lips of 
death, and gruesome visions of the charnel-house, ob- 
trude themselves, and we shrink back from them in ter- 
ror. The sin and miseries that have come to others by 
our bad example, haunt us like specters. There is no 
sorrow like remorse — no grieving like the grieving for 
lost opportunities — no words so wournful as the sad re- 
frain: “It might have been.” But memory does not 


257 


COFI^IN NAILS : THE STORY OE JANE MCGREGOR 

end with life. It is the earnest of immortality. Even 
as life’s dreams troop past the spiritual gaze of the 
diowningl — so, when we stand before the great white 
throne, will it again recall the scenes of our earthly life. 
Thankful, indeed, may we be, if there is no act of ours 
to cause eternal remorse. But our eyes will be opened, 
and we will then see — what we could not see here — the 
never-ending effects of our careless words and deeds. 
I fear we will cry out for the rocks and hills to fall on 
us, and hide us from a just judge. 

Blessed, thrice blessed, shall we then be, if the blood 
of Christ shall have blotted our sins from the book of His 
remembrance. Christ died to save us from punishment, 
but the consequences of our sins will go on forever. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The Last Nail. 

G oing back to the previous autumn, we find Mrs. 
Zina Darnell — our old friend Zina Green — visiting 
her sister Martha. Martha’s boys, John and Tom- 
my, had taken Jimmie Darnell to town with them. When 
they returned, John ran in with: “Oh, ma! Jimmie 
smokes cigarettes.” 

“He don’t! does he?” exclaimed Zina. 

“But he does. Pa gave us some money for candy, 
and he IxDught cigarettes with his, and he’s smoking 
now.” 

“You didn’t smoke, did you?” burst out his mother. 
258 


THE LAST NAIL 


“No, you guess I didn’t ! But he’s trying to teach 
Tommy.” 

Both mothers ran to the barn, and saw with their own 
eyes. 

“Oh dear! Jimmie’s been lying to me,” sighed Zina. 
But irate Martha heaved no sighs. She gave both boys 
a spanking. That ended it with Tommy. Not so with 
Jimmie. He had been smoking too long. He had 
brought cigarettes with him, and had been smoking se- 
cretly until they were gone. It was with a sore heart 
that his mother took him to her room, and talked to him 
about his untruthfulness, and the bad habit he was form- 
ing, and he promised to quit. But the next day he slip- 
ped off into the orchard and smoked again, for he had 
lieen cunning enough to hide some cigarettes before 
Aunt Martha had searched his pockets. Several weeks 
after their return home, his mother again found him 
smoking, and gave him another talk, but it was like talk- 
ing to the wind. When the Anti-Cigarette League 
started she got the boys to coax him to join, and he 
really did try to quit. But the weak gnawing feeling 
was more than he could stand, and he began again. 

One night Zina was awakened by hearing Jimmie 
moaning, and, when she came, he said : “Mamn\a, my 
side hurts so.” Then she busied around, and did all she 
could to help him, but he grew worse, and Dr. Hawley 
was sent for. When he came, Jimmie was coughing, 
and spitting up something thick and black. 

“My boy,” he said, “you have been smoking cigar- 
ettes, and your lungs are all stopped up with that black 
poison smoke dust.” 

“But you can stop this pain, can’t you? It hurts so.” • 

“Yes, I’ll try to stop it.” 

“What do you think of him. Doctor?” asked Zina, 
following him out to the gate. 


259 


COFFIN NAILS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

“Those fiendish cigarettes have nearly used him up, 
but we will do the best we can. Give the medicine reg- 
ularly.” 

Poor Zina! Jimmie was her last child, the only one 
she had to love. She wiped the tears from her eyes, and 
went back, smiling, to her boy — kissed him lovingly, 
and told him to bear the pain bravely, until the medicine 
could cure it. 

“Mamma,” said he, “there are some cigarettes in my 
pocket. Throw them in the fire. I am afraid I might 
be tempted to smoke one.” 

All day Zina worked over her sick boy, but the pain 
steadily grew worse, and, try as hard as he could to be 
brave, he could not keep back the moans. Every once 
in a while he cried out : 

“It is so long! Won’t the doctor ever come?” He 
came at last, and sat there a long time.. A neighbor had 
come in to sit with Jinimie, and again Zina followed him 
out. ; 

“I fear we can not save him,” he answered her eyes’ 
questioning. 

“Oh, Doctor, don’t say there is no hope!” 

“There is hope as long as there is life. There is one 
chance in ten that we can save him, and we’ll work on 
that chance, but his system is so full of poison that the 
medicine has no effect.” 

A consultation was held, and all the physicians agreed 
that it was an undoubted case of tobacco poisoning. 

Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Nellie Felton, and other kind 
neighbors, helped Zina care for him, and all was done 
that could be done, but nothing would bring relief. The 
cough grew worse, the mucous that he coughed up being 
black as tar. 

“Oh, mamma, can’t you stop this pain?” Jimmie plead. 

260 


THE EAST NAIE 


“Why don’t you do something to me?” and it 

seemed as though his constant moaning would break her 
heart. And, when the doctor came, she begged him to 
give something to ease the pain, if only for a little while. 

“No,” said the doctor, “nothing will have any effect 
on his poison soaked blood, unless we give doses large 
enough to end life.’' 

So, for long days, and longer nights, the pain grew 
more unbearable. 

It was the still hour before day. Zina sat beside her 
suffering boy. He had ceased to groan and crv out, be- 
cause every audible sound increased the pain — but his 
flushed face, strained eyes, and labored breathing told 
how much he suffered. His mother held his hand lov- 
ingly, thankful that his mind no longer wandered. She 
had to stoop to catch his faint whisper. 

“What is it, pet? Do you know mamma now?” He 
nodded assent. 

“Can’t I get well?” 

“I hope so, but I am afraid. Oh, you must get well. 
T can’t do without you, pet. I wish I could do some- 
thing to help you.” 

“Oh, mamma, why didn’t you make me quit smoking,” 
he whispered, “so I would not have to die?” 

“Why, Jimmie, I did try. If I only could have saved 
you from this pain, my poor boy and tears rolled down 
the mother’s cheeks. 

“But you didn’t try hard enough. Why didn’t you 
shut me up? Whv didn’t vqu keep me from starting?” 

“Oh ! How I wish T had,” she sobbed. “But we can’t 
help it now. Don’t try to talk, it hurts you.” 

“But I must talk,” he whispered hoarsely. “I might 
die, and I must tell you. I lied to yod — T said T hadn’t 
smoked manv, and I had smoked lots. I stole monev to 
buv them. Oh ! Fm such a bad bov.” 


261 


COFFIN NAIFS : THE STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

“Don t talk any more, it hurts you so. it was the old 
cigarettes made you do it. Mamma loves her boy, and 
hes going to get well, and be her own good boy again. ' 

“Mamma, send word — and the whispeis came bro- 
kenly^ “to the boys — never to smoke — any more. Tell 
them — ho'W awfully 1 suffered. Pray for me, mamma," 
and the mother s voice went up in earnest pleadings for 
her boy. Soon the hurried Dieathing broke into moans, 
and the agonizing cough could no longer be held back, 
riie wild delirium returned, and between his moans he 
begged, in pitiful hoarse whispers, to be saved from the 
monsters that were clutching him, until the poor mother 
sobbed in helpless sympathy. 

It was heart-rending, at the last, to hear his struggles 
for breath. When the last fluttering breath was gone, 
Zina still kept rubbing his hands, and begging her friends 
to do something to revive him. Suddenly she looked up 
and saw them all in tears, and exclaimed : “Oh ! He 
isn't gone, is he?” 

“Yes, dear, he has gone where there is no more suf- 
fering.” 

“Oh! My pet! My baby boy! I can’t give you up! 
I can’t spare you! I can’t live without you,” and she 
sank, sobliing, on her knees beside him. 

“There, dear, I know how hard it is, but we can not 
help him any more,” said Anuty Clark, taking her in her 
arms, and, leading her into another room she soothed 
and petted her, until her paroxysm of grief calmed down. 

“Oh!” she moaned, “I have just lived for Jimmie all 
these years. How can I go on living without him ? It 
will be so lonely with nobody to love, nobody to do for. 
I can't stand it ! How can I work, with nobody to work 
for?” and her sobbing broke out afresh. 

The night seemed so long. She could see her lx>y’s suf- 
fering face — his hollow eyes — hear his piteous moans, 

262 


THIC I,AST nail 


and her self-reproaches drove sleep away. Why had she 
not watched him more closely? Why had she not shut 
him up, or sent him to the reform school, or done some- 
thing to keep that dreadful habit from killing him ? How 
could she liave been so blind? How could she live with- 
out him ? 

The night seemed long, also, to the watchers, keeping 
lonely vigil. They could no longer hear Zina sobbing, 
and spoke softly, for fear of waking her. 

“Poor little Jimmie," said Mrs. Nellie Felton, laying 
back the sheet from the thin white face, “he is losing 
that look of pain, and becoming more natural. It seems 
almost wicked to say it, but I feel as if death was a 
blessed relief from his agonies. Poor boy, he has driven 
the last nail in his coffin.” 

Her companion glanced up with a startled look of in- 
c[uiry. 

“You know," continued Nellie, “some one said that 
every cigarette a boy smoked, he was driving a nail in 
Ins own coffin.” 

“Yes, and I should think when they know of his pain- 
ful death, it would break every boy in'town of smoking.” 

“Not as long as they see men smoking. I wish every 
tobacco user in town could have witnessed his sufferings, 
and been made to feel responsible for causing them. I 
am glad I don’t have to stand in their shoes when the 
judgment day comes,” answered Nellie, solemnly. 

“Just then Aunty Clark entered, remarking: “Zina 
has at last cried herself to sleep.” 

“Poor Zina, how lonely she will be,” said Nellie. 

“Yes, I know full well how desolate the long months 
will be, and how everything about the home will remind 
her of her boy. and start the tears afresh.” 

“And just to think,” exclaimed Nellie, “that there are 
hundreds of such sad mothers, bereaved by cigarettes. 

263 


COFFIN NAILS : THF STORY OF JANE MCGREGOR 

At the convention Rev. Caldwell, of Chicago, said he had 
buried more cigarette victims in ten years, than he had 
of the victims of strong drink in his whole ministry of 
thirty-five years. What if that was my boy lying under 
that sheet!” 

“And there is no telling' when it will be, if the spread 
of this fearful habit is not checked. But we are all so 
selfish and indifferent to the sorrow of some other boy's 
mother.” 

“God helping me, I am going to work harder than 
ever against this evil,” was Nellie’s earnest reply. 

“If every woman in the land would enter the crusade 
against it, they could soon rid the country of this blight- 
ing curse.” 

The End. 


ADDENDUM. 

The story of Jane McGregor is a rosary cf facts 
strung on a thread of fiction. Many of these incidents 
came under my own observation ; others are from the 
personal experience of friend^. 

I am indebted for information to Mrs. Ingalls, of St. 
Louis, to the “Crusader Monthly,” and “The Boy,” and 
to ^.he “Ladies’ Home Journal,” and the “Youth’s Com- 
panion,” for the excerpts regarding Maj. Greelv’s Arctic 
experiences. 

I am under obligations for scientific facts to Dr. 
Hutchinson, of Kansas; Dr. Paulson, of Chicago; Dr. 
Burroughs, of Oberlin, Ohio, and Dr. Crothers, of Hart- 
ford, Conn. 

Rosetta B. Hastings. 

Effingham, Kansas. 

264 





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